


A Chance

by myladyriver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-09-24 04:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 22,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myladyriver/pseuds/myladyriver
Summary: "As I waited for the light to change at the crosswalk, I watched a woman on the other side of the road with idle interest, a smile playing around the edges of my mouth. She was dressed quite unusually for a woman in Los Angeles; she wore a long, faded black tiered skirt, a black vest with no top beneath it, and a charcoal scarf covered with what looked like silver pompoms. However, it was her hair that caught my eye -- she had tumultuous, spiraling midnight black curls that blew around her face in the stiff breeze."A Muggle world AU in which Hermione and Bellatrix may have a real chance at a life together.





	1. She Said ‘Kiss Me,’ and Lord, I Listened

As I waited for the light to change at the crosswalk, I watched a woman on the other side of the road with idle interest, a smile playing around the edges of my mouth. She was dressed quite unusually for a woman in Los Angeles; she wore a long, faded black tiered skirt, a black vest with no top beneath it, and a charcoal scarf covered with what looked like silver pompoms. However, it was her hair that caught my eye -- she had tumultuous, spiraling midnight black curls that blew around her face in the stiff breeze. The light changed, and we began to cross toward each other when I heard the sound of a speeding engine. I looked away from the striking woman, and down the street where a car came barreling around the corner, clearly without the intention of stopping. The lady who was in the direct path of the Chevy hadn’t looked up. The best my adrenaline-filled brain could come up with was to surge forward. I saw, for the briefest moment, the lady’s shocked expression as I rammed her back out of the way. The shriek of tires reverberated in my ears as the car tried to stop, but something about the crushing weight against my ribcage told me that the driver hadn’t managed it in time.

I warily cracked open one eye, uncertain as to my location, or why I felt hungover. I shifted slightly, and winced. No, not hungover. In pain, and drugged. So, hospital, then. Hopefully. The room was over-illuminated by fluorescent lights and the air was heavy with the saccharine stench of disinfectants, so unless I was in an impeccably clean interrogation chamber or the psychopath that had kidnapped me had very specific OCD, hospital it was. I opened my eyes more fully, blinking against the abrupt brightness, my head throbbing with a special vengeance. Only able to see the ceiling and -- if I craned my neck -- part of the far wall, I attempted to push myself up into a sitting position. I gasped in shocked pain, and slumped back in defeat.

“Fuck,” I grumbled, though it came out as more of a croak.

“Actually, it was a car,” came a new voice, making me start. I turned my face to the right as best I could, and saw a woman sitting in a chair beside my bed. Well, I saw her knees and her torso; I couldn’t quite see her face from this angle.

“God, I really shouldn’t be blithe. It’s awful, I apologize. Nervous habit,” she confessed, and I could hear both the anxiety and the smile in her voice — her rich, deep British voice. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers fiddling restlessly with a large, kitschy silver flower ring.

“You sound tired,” I rasped sympathetically.

“Been up for a few days,” she replied, sounding strangely apologetic for the fact.

“Ah. Do you make a habit of sitting vigil at strangers’ bedsides, or am I special?” I asked curiously, wondering what Wonderland-esque world I had awoken to and pleased that my voice was growing marginally stronger. The lady chuckled despite her previous resolve to remain serious, and I silently congratulated myself, because her laugh was incredibly endearing. Warm and almost accidentally sultry, with a hint of a surprise and innocence. Was I really analyzing the laugh of a woman I woke up next to in a hospital? I was comforted when I assured myself that it was the drugs talking, though even in my current condition, I rather suspected that was bullshit.

“No, darling, it’s just you,” the lady promised me, and if I were surprised by the term of affection, I didn’t show it.

“To what do I owe such honor?” I queried, smiling at the surrealism of the entire situation. Should I be worried that I’m not terribly alarmed and curious about how I earned a hospital bed? Nah. One thing at a time.

“I, er-- Well...” she began disjointedly, but I waved a hand at her to wait. Truth be told, it was more of a feeble hand spasm in her general direction, but she seemed unsure enough how to respond that she paused anyway.

“Would you mind helping me sit up first? I want to be able to see you properly. No offense, you have lovely knees, but...” My shoulder twitched in an approximation of a shrug; I despised the feeling of lying on my back, utterly helpless.

“I don’t know,” the woman worried, “the doctor said you needed rest...”

“Please?” I sighed. “I feel ridiculous like this.”

“Oh, all right,” she conceded. “Just don’t— Just tell me if anything hurts.”

“I’m sprawled out flat in a hospital bed,” I reminded her. “Everything hurts. But I’d rather be sitting up.” I could practically feel the woman’s concern and indecision radiating off her, but she stood nonetheless. Graceful as ever, I nearly choked on my gasp when she moved into view.

“You! The-- the hair lady!” My head was too busy being slammed with memories to care much about how inarticulately that was phrased. She had removed her sweater and funny scarf, but I now realized that the skirt was the same eccentric piece that the woman on the street had been wearing, and the hair was absolutely unmistakable. The long, wild corkscrews tumbled down her shoulders in a casual disarray, and I found her as fascinating to behold now as I had when I had first set eyes on her. Her lips twitched up at the peculiar name I had bestowed upon her, but her forehead was creased with immeasurable guilt.

“I-- Yes. From the road. You knocked me out of the way of that damn car. Saved my life,” she said quietly.

“Don’t feel bad, it wasn’t your fault,” I told her emphatically. Something about the combination of pain and her guilty expression made my stomach twist uncomfortably. “I could hardly let a woman who wore that out in Los Angeles and had such spectacular hair be erased from the human population. It’d be a tragic loss,” I grinned up at her, and felt that my efforts were worth it when she smiled back.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she protested playfully, frowning.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Were those pompoms on your scarf, or just silver lumps? It was a bit difficult to see, I was busy being run over at the time.” Her initially bright expression fell; she bit her lip, and her eyes tightened with self-reproach.

“Sorry,” I sighed, and I meant it. “Was that too soon?” She snorted in an enjoyably un-ladylike manner.

“Not even out of hospital yet? Yeah, a bit, I’d say,” she returned, rolling her eyes and relaxing slightly, though that anxious, haunted look hadn’t fully disappeared from her face.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “No guilt, okay?” I demanded, furrowing my brow and looking up at her scoldingly. “It was my choice to hurl myself in front of that idiot in order to save your lovely face.” She laughed again, gazing down at me with a peculiar expression.

“You’re kind of remarkable, you know that?” she said seriously.

“Um,” I started, “okay? Any particular reason?”

“Yeah,” she answered, shaking her head thoughtfully, “quite a few.” She didn’t elaborate, and I decided not to press her.

“So, what’s your name, then? Or am I destined to forever refer to you as ‘Hair Lady’ inside my head?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, darling. I’m Bellatrix Black,” she smiled, reaching out to shake my hand, though she settled for patting my arm lightly when she remembered my hand was partially bandaged.  
“Bellatrix. It suits you,” I mused. “I’m Hermione.”

“Thank you,” Bellatrix blushed.

“Now, Bellatrix, please help me sit up.” She frowned disapprovingly, but obliged, and began stacking pillows up behind my head. Then she gently eased me into a sitting position, doing her best not to jostle me. I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose, and pressed my uninjured hand to my ribs, the source of the worst of the pain.

“Are you okay, darling?” Bellatrix asked, biting her lip, her face lined with heartwarming concern. “Well I mean no, of course you’re not, but...” I suppressed a smile at her rambling, because really, that would not be appropriate at the moment; she looked genuinely anxious, and my ribs did hurt quite a lot.

“I’ll be fine,” I managed, shifting slightly in a vain attempt to ease the ache that had settled in my diaphragm. “Do you have any idea what the damage is? Did the doctor talk to you?” Bellatrix stood somewhat awkwardly next to the bed, forcing me to look up at her when I spoke. She glanced at the chair, and was about the move it closer when I patted the bed beside me. When she looked skeptical, I repeated the action, adding,

“That chair looks dreadfully uncomfortable, all plastic and cold metal. Come, sit. I don’t bite, I promise.” She tucked a rebellious ringlet behind her ear as she perched on the bed next to me before replying.

“Not even if I ask nicely?” Bellatrix’s tone was casual and light, but the moment after she finished speaking, her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand. I raised my eyebrows, one corner of my mouth curling into a crooked, impressed smile, and let out a low whistle.

“Getting more and more glad I saved you, Ms. Black.”

“Oh, my God,” she muttered, removing the hand over her mouth and pressing it instead to her flushed cheek. “I’m sorry, it’s...habit, I suppose. I really need to learn to filter.”

“Not on my account,” I protested, still grinning. “I find it charming,” I assured her resolutely.

“Anyway,” she pressed on, “yes, to answer you question, the doctor did talk to me. I may have…implied we were slightly more…familially connected than we are. But you didn’t have anyone else here, and I figured someone really ought to know. I hope that wasn’t…too far out of line?” Her verdant eyes were covered by a film of guilt again, and she was chewing her lower lip with worry.

“I’m glad you were here,” I admitted. “I don’t really many people to call, so I’m glad at least someone was here to know what was going on. Thank you.”

Bellatrix ducked her head, several tightly wound curls tumbling forward to partially conceal her face.

“You’re most welcome. It’s really the very least I could do, after all,” she smiled, finally glancing back up at me. “Shall I go on, then?” I nodded, and she continued.

“The doctor said you were actually incredibly fortunate. You’ve sprained your right wrist, broken two ribs, and dislocated your right shoulder. You also have some pretty extensive bruising along your chest, back, and shoulders, as well as some shallow cuts, and a few deeper ones as well. You rolled over the windshield of the car that hit you, which accounts for the kind of injuries you have -- you would’ve been much, much worse off if you had gone under the car. You could have died,” she said softly. “Does that-- does that answer your question?”

“Yes, thanks. It’s all I need to know for the moment, anyway,” I replied, not overly eager to dwell on the details; I found that it made my injuries throb, as if to remind me of each point of impact. Bumper. Hood. Windshield. Pavement.

“I pushed you to the ground,” I recalled slowly. “Fairly hard, actually. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Oh, no, not much. I scraped my hand a bit when I fell, and a very minor wrist sprain. Nothing to worry over. If you hadn’t...I would’ve ended up...Well, rather like you, if not much worse.”

For the first time, I noticed the neutral colored bandaged that peaked out from beneath the sleeve of Bellatrix’s blue and grey striped shirt and wrapped around her wrist and the base of her hand. I lifted my own bandaged hand (my doHermionent, unfortunately) and rested it next to where hers lay on the bed, brushing my fingertips gently over her knuckles.

“We match,” I remarked softly, a wry smile tugging at my lips.

“We do,” Bellatrix agreed, linking her pinky through mine as if we were children flushed with the youth of summer and swearing solemn vows, instead of adults sitting side by side in a hospital bed, connected by our brokenness, the decision to save and the decision to stay, and one terribly irresponsible driver.

“I really must advise you to stay. I’d like to keep you here for a few days to keep an eye on you, but at least stay overnight.” I was shaking my head even while the doctor was talking.

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I need to go home,” I told him firmly, shoving the sheet off my legs, and felt my heartbeat beginning to pound in my fingertips.

“Please, I just need to leave.”

“All right, Ms. Granger. If you’re willing to sign a form that says you are aware you’re leaving against medical advice, then you may leave. You’re going to need someone to drive you home, though,” the doctor warned, sighing as he peered down at me with disapproval.

“Yes, all right, sure. Anything you say, doc. Just get me the form, I’ll sign it,” I promised. The doctor sighed again, and I rankled slightly at his sad displeasure, but brushed it off in favor of focusing on controlling my breathing. When I opened my eyes, the doctor had left and returned and was handing me a clipboard of papers. I took it and set it on my lap while he unhooked my IV; I didn’t meet his eyes, and waited until he left again before starting on my pile of paperwork.

“They tell me you’re signing yourself out AMA,” Bellatrix accused, walking abruptly into my room and sounding cross. “Is this true?” I looked up at her, forcing a smile.

“Yep, I’m busting out,” I replied, working for jokingly cavalier, annoyed with myself when my voice wobbled.

“Are you all right, darling?” Bellatrix asked, her crossing toward me, her tone immediately becoming softer. Her brow furrowed in concern, and she sat down on the bed beside me, closer than before. I blinked, and felt my lashes grow heavy with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just hate hospitals,” I told her, and cleared my throat in an attempt to rid my voice of its hoarse quality. She seemed to consider that for a moment, before nodding.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I can understand that.” She sounded tired in a way she hadn’t earlier, and I wondered what had happened to cause her glittering dark eyes to be so full of empathy for someone whose hospital-related trauma was so transparent.

“Would you mind picking up my stuff from the front desk for me? I need my phone to call someone and ask for a ride home,” I said after a minute of quiet, this time managing a genuine, if small, smile.

“Of course, but...” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Yeah?”

“I could drive you home,” she offered quietly. “I mean, if you like. It’s late, and I’m here. I don’t mind. I’m not a fan of hospitals either, but you’re still leaving AMA, and I’d feel a lot better if I know you made it home safely.”

“All right, Ms. Black. Thank you, I’d really appreciate that.”

“Lovely!” she exclaimed, sounding relieved. “Okay, then, I’ll go collect your things, let you finish up this business here, and then we can get you home.”

It ended up being another forty minutes before the various hospital staff would let us leave, but eventually Bellatrix was very carefully helping me into the passenger seat of her car. I breathed shallowly as she leaned in across me to buckle my seatbelt, the faint scent of antiseptic and honeysuckle clinging to her clothes and the freckled skin off which I could feel warmth radiating.

“I spoke to the doctor while the nurse was helping you get dressed,” Bellatrix started as she pulled out of the hospital’s underground garage.

“Oh?” I prompted, shifting cautiously in hopes of easing the sharp ache around my ribcage.

“Mmm,” she acknowledged, her eyes on the road while she navigated an intersection. When we slowed to a stop at a red light, though, her eyes flickered over to meet mine. “He said you’re at risk for a concussion — you’re not allowed to sleep.” I nodded; I knew this. “He, ah, strongly recommended that you have someone stay the night and make sure you don’t accidentally hurt yourself or slip into a coma. If you have someone you can call for, then all right. I told him I’d stay with you — he really did keep going on and on. I’m happy to do it, though, darling.”

“I’d argue on principal, but you have been incredibly kind to me. Besides, I needed help putting on my seat-belt, so...if you’re willing to stay for awhile, I’d be grateful.”


	2. Some Kind of Socialite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, since your social life is apparently so lacking,” I began, laughing when she swatted me on the arm, “why don’t you come out with me sometime? We always stay home out of habit, and as lovely as this is, it might be a nice change to get out of the house.”  
“What, getting tired of being cooped up with me?” Bellatrix asked, her voice teasing, but I had known her long enough by now to notice the thread of genuine insecurity lacing her tone.

I watched, entranced, as Bellatrix laughed freely.

“Thank you,” I remarked the next time there was a lull in conversation, my words clearly startling her.

“For what?” she asked, surprised and curious. I shrugged.

“For spending this time with me. I know there other things you could be doing, other people you could be seeing, but you still put up with me. And I love being around you, so thanks.”

“Oh, darling, you’re sweet,” Bellatrix chuckled. “But you seem to think I’m some kind of socialite. You’re very welcome, of course, but it’s hardly a chore. Honestly, I find your company very...refreshing. There’s no one I’d rather spend the time with.” She smiled. My chest constricted at her warm admission and the kindness in the curve of her mouth.

“Well, since your social life is apparently so lacking,” I began, laughing when she swatted me on the arm, “why don’t you come out with me sometime? We always stay home out of habit, and as lovely as this is, it might be a nice change to get out of the house.”

“What, getting tired of being cooped up with me?” Bellatrix asked, her voice teasing, but I had known her long enough by now to notice the thread of genuine insecurity lacing her tone.

“Never,” I answered, with so much conviction that Bellatrix smiled again. “I just thought that we could, you know, have fun, that you might enjoy actually doing something. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, we can just continue being hermits together.”

“As long as we can still have our hermit nights, I’d love to spend time with you out in the real world,” Bellatrix replied.

“Deal. Now, come here. If you insist on keeping your house at a near freezing temperature, it’s your responsibility to keep me warm,” I commanded, beckoning her over.

“Hmph,” she snorted, rolling her eyes at my theatrics, but she curled against my side nevertheless. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, shuddering pleasantly at the warmth her body provided. “Oh, my God, you’re actually shivering! I’m sorry, Hermione! You should have said something earlier!” Bellatrix exclaimed, apologizing profusely. I chuckled softly, and tucked my face into the juncture between her neck and shoulder. She squeaked, startled by my frigid skin against her exquisitely warm neck, but didn’t protest.

“Mm, this is nice,” I sighed contentedly, my hand coming to settle on her knee.

“Yes,” Bellatrix agreed softly, resting her cheek against the top of my head, “it is.”


	3. But Bellatrix, Bless Her, Merely Grinned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She peered up at me a moment later through a few loose curls that had fallen into her face. My pulse raced and my heart ached at how lovely and youthful it made her look. She was a rare type of woman in that while she was undeniably gorgeous and sexy, she retained an irrepressible sense of adorableness. It was incredibly endearing.

“Oh, you’re sweet, dear. You’ll make some young man very happy one day,” Bellatrix smiled, patting my knee. Does she really not know...?

“Bellatrix?” I started, turning on the couch to face her.

“Mm?” she prompted, absently tucking a tendril of honey colored hair behind her ear, though it sprung back a moment later.

“I don’t date men — I’m, you know, into women.”

“Oh. Oh! Right. Yes,” Bellatrix replied, blushing and dropping her gaze. She peered up at me a moment later through a few loose curls that had fallen into her face. My pulse raced and my heart ached at how lovely and youthful it made her look. She was a rare type of woman in that while she was undeniably gorgeous and sexy, she retained an irrepressible sense of adorableness. It was incredibly endearing.

“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?” I asked hesitantly, frowning with worry; losing my friendship with Bellatrix over this would be unbearable.

“Hmm? Of course not, darling! In fact, it makes your compliments even more flattering,” she answered, winking. I laughed— I should’ve known Bellatrix would use this as an excuse to be even more flirtatious.

“Honestly, I thought you knew. You’re always sort of teasingly flirting with me,” I said, relaxing back into the couch. She shrugged.

“Can’t help it,” she admitted. “Something about you just brings that out in me.”

“So will you believe me now when I say you’re exquisitely beautiful and almost cruelly sexy?” I asked, nudging her shoulder with mine. Bellatrix pursed her lips and regarded me with an odd expression for a moment.

“If you insist,” she finally returned, with a show of nonchalance, but her soft eyes sparkled.

“Oh, I do,” I told her sincerely, my voice low and a bit more seductive than I had intended. But Bellatrix, bless her, merely grinned.

“My, but you’re good for my self-esteem. How many women my age can say they have a gorgeous young woman flirting shamelessly with them?”

“All for you, Sweetie,” I promised, winking back at her.

“Well, you can carry on as long as you like,” she laughed. It isn’t her fault she sounds like sex personified, I reminded myself, whining silently. Goddamn, I sighed.

“I think I’ll do that.”


	4. Actually For Real

I glanced up from the stir fry I was tending, and poked Bellatrix with the clean end of the wooden spoon I was using. She looked up, and met my gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“How old are you actually, for real?” I asked, tilting my head curiously. As the words left my mouth, I winced at both how blunt and absurd I sounded. Where’s the mute button on this thing?

“Actually for real?” she laughed, and I was relieved to see that she was amused rather than offended. “I’m fifty-two,” she added, and I frowned.

“Are you sure?” I queried doubtfully, squinting at Bellatrix as I simultaneously did the math and attempted to see over four decades in her face. I wasn’t entirely successful in either endeavor.

“Fairly,” she nodded, looking vaguely concerned for my well-being.

“Fuck,” I scowled, only realizing that I said that aloud when Bellatrix’s eyes widened in surprise and confusion. “Oh. Ah, sorry. Disregard that.” What would anyone like her ever want anything to do with a comparably upstart kid?

“Darling, are you okay?” she asked, her brow scrunching in more sincere worry now, and I instantly felt horrible.

“Yeah,” I assured her, forcing a smile. I shuffled closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, my eyes closing briefly as my senses were inundated with Bellatrix; her body heat as I pressed against her side, the floral scent of her shampoo, and the soft sound of her breathing. “I’m fine.”


	5. No One Worried About Me

It was nearly 8:00 p.m., and Bellatrix had never shown up for our dinner, which had been scheduled for 6:30 p.m. She was a punctual and considerate woman; it wasn’t like her to not show up unless something had happened, and even then she would most certainly call. To say I was worried was a gross understatement. I now sat in my car, parked on the street near her house, trying to make up my mind whether or not I should knock on her door. She hadn’t invited me over, and I didn’t want to show up unannounced, but I was worried about her.  _ This is ridiculous _ , I told myself sternly, and got out of my car, locked it and hurried toward Bellatrix’s front door without looking back.

I knocked on her door — pounded, really — but there was no reply. Her car was in the driveway, and I could see lights on through the windows, but still she didn’t answer. My chest tightened with anxiety, and against the logical part of my brain that told me Bellatrix wouldn’t appreciate my barging into her home, I grabbed the key I knew she kept under a nearby potted plant, and let myself in.

“Bellatrix?” I called softly, my heart beating erratically. “Av-” but my voice died in my throat as I turned the corner into the living room, and saw the focus of my concern sitting on the couch. Bellatrix wore only knickers and a bra, and while any other day that would have been enough to send me spiraling off into guilt-ridden fantasies, I barely even noticed, because there was a red stain smeared across her forearms and thighs. She was staring straight ahead, eyes open, but she didn’t seem to register me entering her field of vision. My own eyes filled with tears, which I brusquely wiped away before moving quickly to kneel before her.

“Bellatrix,” I breathed. “Bellatrix, sweetie, can you hear me? Come on, honey, look at me,” I pleaded, shaping a hand to her cheek. She started at my touch, and looked at me as if only just noticing I was there.

“H-Hermione,” she said in a startled gasp. “What are you d-doing here?”

“I came looking for you, honey. You never showed up for dinner, and you know I worry about you,” I explained gently, alternating between peering up into her eyes and glancing down at her bloodied wrists and thighs, trying to quickly and unobtrusively assess the damage and danger.

“You w-worry about me?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes, sweetie, of course I do,” I assured her, placing a tender kiss on the closest patch of skin I could reach — her knee.

“N-No one worries about me,” Bellatrix protested weakly.

“I do. Now, let me get you cleaned up, okay?” I asked. She nodded absently. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just wait here, okay?” No response. I dropped another kiss to her knee before jumping up and sprinting to her bathroom, where I rooted through her cabinets until I found antibacterial ointment, pain killers, clean towels, and bandages, which I set out on the counter. When I returned to the living room, Bellatrix hadn’t moved a muscle. Unsure whether to be relieved or more anxious, I sat beside her.

“Can you take this for me, sweetie?” I asked gently, holding up a pill of tylenol. Bellatrix was unresponsive. I ran my thumb across her lips, which parted, and I carefully placed the pill on her tongue. “Come on Bellatrix, please swallow. Please.” I was begging, but it didn’t matter because she listened and did as I beseeched.

“Sweetheart, I need you to come with me so I can clean the blood off, okay?” Bellatrix looked at me then, the confusion and pain held in her heavy gaze only serving to make me more determined. I stood, and, wrapping my arms carefully around her waist, I helped her to her feet. She didn’t collapse immediately, for which I was immensely grateful. She was unable to support her own weight completely, though, so I let her lean heavily on me as I guided her into the bathroom.

_ Thank God Bellatrix has a detachable shower-head _ , I thought fervently as I eased Bellatrix into a sitting position, legs splayed out in front of her, at the back of the bathtub. I pulled down the shower-head and turned on the water, making sure it was tepid, before perching on the side of the tub.

“All right, Bellatrix, I’m going to wash the blood off now. It might feel be a bit chilly, and it may sting a bit” I warned. No reply. I sighed, my heart breaking as I began to gently clean blood off the woman I loved.  _ My dear, sweet, beautiful Bellatrix. What happened to you, angel? What pain caused this? _

Once Bellatrix’s arms and legs had been mostly cleaned of her blood and I had dried her as best I could, I retrieved the tube of antibacterial ointment.

“This part  _ is _ going to sting, honey,” I told her quietly, looking up into her face for any sign that she had understood what I said. She nodded nearly imperceptibly, and so I set about meticulously covering each cut with the ointment, beginning with her thighs. She flinched so violently every time that I had to hold down her legs with one hand, each tremble adding a new fissure to my cracked heart.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, and continued to apologize for every cut I touched. By the time I was finished, I had apologized thirty-seven times.

The cuts in Bellatrix’s wrists were bleeding the most, so I started with those, wrapping each wrist securely with an excessive number of layers of white gauze. However, I could not properly see the cuts on her thighs when she was sitting in the tub, so I helped her to sit on the edge of the tub while I kneeled on the bathroom floor. By now, she was able to sit up on her own, so it wasn’t as hazardous as it could have been.

The majority of the cuts on Bellatrix’s thighs were shallow, and weren’t bleeding too much. I decided that bandaging the tender, red ridges would do more harm than good, so I opted to forego that route and instead decided to simply dress her in soft, loose sweatpants. Several of the cuts were particular deep and long, and I forced back the thoughts of what must have been running through Bellatrix’s head when she had held the razor to her skin. Those I carefully protected with meticulously placed Band-Aids. I did my best to be gentle, not wanting to ever hurt this woman, as well as preserve any sense of privacy Bellatrix may have been clinging to and not let my hands move too high up on her thighs. This was enormously difficult, as the cuts were merely three or four inches below her underwear, on her inner thigh. Despite my best efforts, my hands grazed her underwear several times. Each time, Bellatrix would start beneath my hands, and I felt like the dregs of the scum of the earth, murmuring an apology each time.

At last, Bellatrix’s cuts were clean, dry, and bandaged. However, her underwear were wet from sitting in the tub, and she still wasn’t wearing enough for my comfort. Fortunately, her catatonic state had lifted, and though she still wasn’t saying much, she would respond to me. Thinking she might feel a little more secure if she were dry and clothed, I wound an arm around her waist and helped her into her bedroom.

“I’ll let you get dressed, then, and, um, go make tea or something,” I said awkwardly, unsure what to do with myself. I turned to exit her room when she spoke.

“P-please, Hermione. I can’t- I can’t- my hands won’t stop shaking, and I can barely walk, I can’t-” I turned back to her to see her looking at me pleadingly, looked exceedingly humiliated.

“Ssh Bellatrix, it’s okay, of course, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. You just sit on your bed, and I’ll find something for you to put on. It’s all right,” I soothed, stepping toward her immediately. She looked so terribly broken that I couldn’t help but press a kiss to her forehead and pull her into a gentle hug before moving over to her wardrobe. My cheeks burning, I rifled through her top drawer to find a pair of underwear. After picking the plainest, most chaste pair I could find, I quickly chose a pair of grey sweatpants and a large, blue, soft sweater.

Bellatrix rose shakily, turning to face away from me. I took a deep breath, understanding what she was asking. I lay my hand flat against her upper back for a moment, though whether it was to calm her or me, I wasn’t certain. Then, I unhooked her bra and eased it off her shoulders, careful to ensure that the straps didn’t touch her bandaged forearms more than was necessary. While Bellatrix still had her back to me, I gently helped her pull the sweatshirt over her head. Thankfully, it fell to her mid-thigh, and only then did I dare to gently slide off her underwear. 

With a hand on her ankle, I guided Bellatrix’s feet into the clean and dry pair before pulling them up. Finally came the sweatpants. I was deeply grateful that Bellatrix could not see my expression, because it was a confusing combination between aching sadness on her behalf, guilt and embarrassment at her recent state of undress, and rather poorly disguised love. It was the last of these three emotions that I most desired to keep well-hidden from Bellatrix; now was not the time to burden her with my feelings for her. And so I reconstructed my barriers, letting only what I hoped looked like platonic love shine through my dark eyes.

“There you go,” I murmured, straightening up as Bellatrix turned back to face me.

“Thank you,” she whispered, glancing down, unable to meet my eye. I didn’t know what to say that would be enough; it all seemed extraordinarily trite.

“Of course,” I told her, my voice rough with anguish and love for her. “Now, you lie down while I go put on some tea — for real, this time,” I smiled, nodding toward the bed behind her.

“Okay,” Bellatrix agreed quietly. She crawled into bed and slipped beneath the covers. I cast her one more weighted look before ducking out and heading to the kitchen.

I barely managed to put the kettle on before slumping to the floor and burying my tear-streaked face in my hands. I sobbed silently as the water began to boil, and when the whistle shrieked shrilly, I slowly picked myself up off the floor, wiped my eyes, and poured Bellatrix a mug of Earl Grey tea — her favorite. After adding five sugar cubes (the way she liked it best, something I teased her relentlessly about), I brought the tea back to Bellatrix’s room, careful not to slop the hot water all over myself, a task made more difficult by my trembling hands.

“Hey,” I said softly from the doorway of Bellatrix’s bedroom, looking in at her lying in bed. Her eyes had been closed, but they opened as soon as I spoke. I made my way around to the side of the bed on which she lay, setting the tea down on the bedside table. I sat on the edge of the bed, gazing down at Bellatrix, my forehead creased with worry. I smoothed her curls from her face, then twined my hands together in my lap, uncertain as to where I should be or what I should be doing.

“Stay,” Bellatrix finally asked, her voice weak and tired.

“Okay,” I agreed, my voice hoarse from crying. “I will.” When she patted the bed beside her, I got up, walked around the bed, and climbed in beside her, sliding between the sheets. Bellatrix reached out blindly for me, and I immediately curled myself around her. She buried her face in my shoulder, and I kissed the top of her head. She started to cry, and I held on to her securely, crying too.

“I need to ask you something, and I want you to know that any answer is a safe one and won’t go farther than me,” I began, once her sobbing had mostly subsided into the occasional sniffle.

“All right.”

“Were you trying to kill yourself?”

“No, I was just...upset,” she answered, her voice breaking.

“Will you tell me why?” I asked, smoothing one hand down her back

“In the morning,” she sighed, her exhaustion heavy in her voice.

“Okay.” So Bellatrix and I hid away in each other, huddled in a shared embrace all night, the tea forgotten.


	6. But It Is For Me

Bellatrix’S POV

“Unnng,” I groaned, my voice muffled by the pillow. My head was heavy with exhaustion and the beginning of a headache, my forearms were heavy and sore, and my upper thighs felt pinched and itchy. Barely awake, my memory was hazy, and it took me several minutes to piece together the events that had led to my current condition.  _ I’ve really fucked up this time _ , I thought miserably.  _ Hermione. She had been so kind and had taken such good care of me...Oh God, would she ever be able to look me in the eye again after what she had seen last night? I had been an utter wreck, and she had cleaned me up and put me back together, dried me off and dressed me. That poor girl, having to take care of a broken old woman. And oh Christ I had made her stay all night in my bed... _

I reached out blindly for her, but my hand found only empty sheets, wrinkled but no longer warm from where she had slept. Inexplicably, my heart sank. Of course she would have gone as soon as she could have. _What were you expecting, Bellatrix?_ _For her to be there when you woke up? Get a grip._ I lay in bed for awhile longer, unmoving, my self-pity and self-hatred growing in tandem, silent tears leaking from my eyes and seeping into my tangle of curls. Finally, my hunger pains and my headache forced me to sit up to seek out food and painkillers. I passed a hand over my face, scrubbing the offensive tears angrily from my skin and rubbing my sleepy eyes. I looked around my bedroom before glancing at the clock on my bedside table. 9:27 a.m. I squinted — next to the clock was a a glass of water, and two pills resting on a piece of paper. I carefully picked up the paper, slid the pills into my hand, and read the note scribbled on the paper in Hermione’s familiar scrawl.

** _Take these when you wake up, Sweetie. I’m around if you need anything — in the living room or the kitchen. -H xx_ **

I felt fresh tears well up in my eyes at Hermione’s thoughtfulness and care. S _ he stayed. Oh God, she stayed _ . I took the pills and sipped at the water as instructed, then swung my feet over the side of my bed and cautiously stood on unsteady legs. I glanced down at my bandaged wrist self-consciously, and tugged down the sleeve of the sweater I wore until the hem met my knuckles and the gauze was hidden from sight. Then, I slowly made my way around my bed and stepped into the hallway, walking toward the living room as I wondered what I would find.

The couch was stripped bare, with the cushions piled on the floor and the cushion covers not in sight. I frowned in confusion. Okay...A partially disassembled couch, and no Hermione. As I stood there uncertainly, I heard a sound coming from the kitchen — running water, and a sort of sloshing noise. I nervously started toward the kitchen, my abdomen clenching worriedly as I speculated what Hermione might say, and what on Earth I could tell her to explain last night. With a sigh, I remembered vaguely that last night I had promised to tell her why this morning.  _ Well, fuck _ .

I hovered in the kitchen doorway, watching Hermione at the sink. Her back was to me, the water was running and she hadn’t heard me approach, so I had a moment to simply look at her. She was still clad in the jeans she had worn yesterday, though they were rumpled from having been slept in. However, she was not wearing the white blouse she had been wearing last night, and stood at the sink in her ivory colored lacy bra. My breath caught in my throat, my cheeks abruptly flooding with warmth. Lord, but she was an exquisitely beautiful woman; her skin was flawless porcelain, the delicate curve of her lower back contrasting perfectly with the toned muscles that played beneath her skin as she moved her arms.  _ Ah _ , I thought weakly,  _ she really needs to put that shirt back on _ . Seeing so much of her bare skin was hazardous to my health, and now was really not the time. I cleared my throat to call attention to my presence, and Hermione jumped visibly, startled.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” I said quietly, my voice embarrassingly low and throaty. I coughed again. Hermione turned to face me, grabbing a dish towel as she did so to dry her hands. She smiled gently, her brow puckering with worry. Unable to help myself, I crossed the distance between us and smoothed the wrinkles on her forehead with the pad of my thumb.

“Don’t frown, you’ll get lines,” I scolded softly, lowering my hand.

“You know I worry about you,” she replied, and my thoughts immediately returned to last night when she found me bleeding on the couch, and had said those same words to me. I nodded.

“Yeah. I do,” I admitted meekly. “Thanks for that.” Hermione shook her head.

“No need to thank me for that, Bellatrix. I care about you, so I worry about you. It’s as natural as breathing.”

“Not for everyone,” I replied, disgusted by the bitter sadness in my voice.

“No,” she agreed. “But it is for me.”

“So,” I began slyly, returning to the more familiar zone of teasing and light flirting, “is there a reason you’re not wearing a shirt, darling? Or is that just for my benefit?” I asked, smiling playfully as I flicked her bare shoulder. She shivered at my touch, but recovered quickly.

“Why, do you see something you like, Ms. Black?” she asked in a low voice, arching an eyebrow. I swallowed convulsively.

“But of course, my dear. Now stop evading my question,” I returned.

“My shirt got...dirty. I’m washing it — I expected to be done before you got up, sorry,” Hermione replied vaguely, gesturing behind her at the sink. Dirty? I studied Hermione’s expression, noting how her eyes were clouded over with barely masked pain. Oh. She means I got blood all over it last night.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ll replace it-”

“Don’t be silly, Bellatrix,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “It’s fine. It’s white, I’m soaking it in water and bleach now. Don’t worry about it.”

“And my couch cushions?” I asked tentatively.

“Been washing those, too. They met the same fate as my shirt,” she answered, her words light in a sweet, but futile, attempt to combat the sorrow in her voice.

“Christ, Hermione, how long have you been awake?” I asked, surprised.

“Awhile,” she shrugged evasively, and suddenly I could picture her getting up long before I awoke to strip my couch, so that I wouldn’t have to see the blood when I woke up.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, but it didn’t seem like nearly enough.

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?” Hermione asked sincerely, moving closer to me and carding her fingers through my curls, much as she done the night before. Her bare abdomen came into gentle contact with my own stomach, warming my skin through my light sweater. I lowered my gaze from her face, but when my eyes instead landed on her bra-clad bosom, I was distracted enough to answer truthfully.

“No. I don’t know.”

“What happened last night, Bellatrix?” she asked, and in her voice I could hear just a hint of the choked grief that had been so prominent the night before.

“Last night was...Unexpected. And a long story. I’ll tell you after you feed me — and after you put on a shirt. You’re much too distracting with all that pretty skin showing,” I told her, again far more honest with her than I probably should have been.

“Cheeky woman,” she sighed. I smiled tiredly at hearing the familiar phrase fall so easily from her lips, and I abruptly thought, perhaps our friendship will survive this disaster after all.

“You cook, and I’ll go find you a shirt to put on, yeah?” I suggested, and she nodded. Reluctantly, loathe to leave the warmth and comfort of Hermione’s presence, I moved back and started to return to my bedroom.

“Bellatrix?” she called uncertainly, just as I was about to leave the kitchen.

“Yes, darling?” I prompted, turning back.

“I love you, you know.” And now her voice was filled with only surety and sincerity, enough of it to leave me with no doubt whatsoever that she meant it.

“And that means more to me than I think I can tell you.” Still too honest, but it was worth it to see a genuine smile grace her lips, reaching her eyes for the first time since yesterday morning.


	7. Ten Years

Hermione’s POV

Bellatrix and I sat at her kitchen table, a large plate of an egg-and-sausage scramble that I had just cooked sitting between us. She had pulled the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her hands, which were now cupping a fresh mug of tea as she inhaled the steam. I picked absently at the egg dish, hoping she’d eat if I did. She got the hint, and ate a few bites before setting down her fork back down. I waited patiently for her to speak, knowing she would when she was ready, and alternated between eating and allowing my eyes to trace her lovely features. Her hair was partially pulled back, just enough to keep the foremost curls out of her eyes, the rest falling around her neck in a beautiful halo lit with morning light.

“You know I was married once,” Bellatrix finally begins, glancing up at me to check that I recalled what she had once told me. I nodded. “His name was Rodolphus. We got married, hm, eighteen years ago, and divorced nine years later. I had always wanted children, ever since I was quite young myself. I grew up mothering my friends, younger and older alike. Rodolphus didn’t want children at first, but after a year or so he warmed to the idea, and after a good deal of initial difficulty, I fell pregnant.” Here, Bellatrix paused, her eyes years away as memories overtook her, her voice sounding far away.

“Everything went well; we were especially careful, considering how hard it had been to conceive. We found out we were expecting a boy. Actually, Rod didn’t want to know the gender of the baby until he was born, but I simply couldn’t wait. I’m not that patient,” Bellatrix smiled vacantly, shaking her head. “We named him Samuel. Sam. We had all of the pictures from the sonogram hung up on the fridge door; I carried the latest one around in my wallet. I spent seven months setting up the nursery. Painting, you know, and shopping for furniture, clothes, toys, everything you could possibly think of. I had waited so long for this child; he was my little miracle boy. My Sammy.” Bellatrix grew quiet, her voice sounding strangled with such longing, love and pain that my skin crawled with the need to wrap her up in my arms and never let her go.

“Eat, sweetie. You need to eat,” I encouraged, touching the back of her hand tenderly to bring her back to me. She obeyed, eating nearly half of what was left before continuing.

“At thirty-five weeks, I went into premature labor. It was early, but it was supposed to be okay, the doctor said the baby was developed enough for it to be safe. But something went w-wrong. I won’t go into d-detail, but I l-l-lost the baby and had an emergency h-hysterectomy. I w-wanted to adopt, but R-R-Rod didn’t even c-consider it. A-after that, our m-marriage went to hell. He starting s-s-seeing other women on the side, and divorced me a year later,” Bellatrix finished wretchedly. I didn’t think she even realized she was crying. 

For my part, I was out of my chair before I consciously decided to move, and pulled Bellatrix up into a hug. I wrapped my arms securely around her torso, one hand clutching at the fabric of her sweater over her lower back while the other move up to firmly cup the nape of her neck. Bellatrix weakly fought against my embrace for a moment before falling into me with an agonized cry, hiding her face against the curve of my shoulder. Her hands found their way beneath the large shirt she had loaned me, but the touch was innocent enough; she craved only the comfort of human contact, and I understood that. My head was an absolute mess, different emotions and reactions shouting uselessly in my skull.  _ That fucking slimy bastard—My Bellatrix—She was so alone—No good husband—God this woman is so strong—Bellatrix. Bellatrix. Bellatrix. _

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I murmured, over and over, until Bellatrix’s breathing began to slow and her crying quieted.

“Yesterday, it was t-ten years to the day that Sam d-died,” she finally managed to get out, and I felt her body convulse with the force of another sob.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I whispered, holding her all the tighter. “You are so strong to have survived that, Bellatrix.”

“I nearly didn’t,” she confessed. “I almost — you know — twice.”

“But you’re here now, and you’re safe, and I’m here, and I’m not leaving. I’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again Bellatrix, not if I can help it, not even you.”

I helped Bellatrix back to her room. This time, she didn’t have to ask me to stay, and I wrapped myself around her still trembling body, pressing kisses into her messy curls until she dozed off. Before she fell asleep, she gripped my hand and pulled my arm around to wind around her waist. Even in slumber, she kept a death grip on my arm, as if she were afraid I would leave her.

“Oh, scarf lady,” I whispered into her soft hair. “Like I ever could.”


	8. A Striking Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s true,” she agreed, sweeping her long black hair back over her shoulder as she surveyed me. “You know, I think we’d actually make quite a striking couple,” she mused. I know, I thought. Believe me, I’ve thought about it. We’d be fucking gorgeous together. “Will it be believable though, d’you think? With the age difference, and all.” And there it is.

“Hey, so, I have something to ask you, and you can absolutely say no. Seriously,” I prefaced, standing rather awkwardly beside Bellatrix in her kitchen as she assessed the food in her fridge and tried to decide whether we’d go out to eat. 

“Sure, darling, what is it?” she asked, closing the refrigerator door and turning to face me.

“It’s, it’s kind of dumb, but my high school reunion is coming up next week, and I really don’t want to go to it...alone...For the first year and half, I was the weird, isolated Russian girl, and after that I sort of over-compensated in the social and sexual arena, and going back to see all those people who knew those two past me’s feels weird. I’m not really either of them now, and I’m rather lacking in the social department, especially. I’d feel much better if I had a date-type person to accompany me, which I realize is kind of cowardly, but aaah, I just really don’t want to go as a single person. I wouldn’t even consider going if my old friends and a few of my cousins weren’t nagging me about it, and they’re all married or have exciting careers, and I love my life now, I do, but it’s not something I want to explain to a bunch of idiots I went to high school with. So. Now that I’m sure I’ve not over-sold it, would you mind coming with me?” I asked, smiling self-deprecatingly at my hopeless rambling.

“Of course, honey,” Bellatrix laughed, drawing me into sympathetic hug. “I know how those can be. I’d go as your girlfriend, then? Ooh, will we get to make up an elaborate how-we-met story?” she asked enthusiastically. I laughed in sheer relief, and gripped her more tightly before pulling back.

“Thank you so much. And yeah, that’s the idea. Although I think our actual how-we-met story is exciting enough, don’t you?”

“That’s true,” she agreed, sweeping her long black hair back over her shoulder as she surveyed me. “You know, I think we’d actually make quite a striking couple,” she mused. I know, I thought. Believe me, I’ve thought about it. We’d be fucking gorgeous together. “Will it be believable though, d’you think? With the age difference, and all.” And there it is.

“We’ll be a damn lovely couple, Bellatrix, don’t worry about it. I’ll be the luckiest girl there,” I assured her, grinning and pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek. She laughed, her nose scrunching and the faint lines around her eyes crinkling.

“Come on then,” she started, closing the fridge door decisively, “we’re going out to celebrate our newfound relationship.” She slipped her arm through mine, and lead us over to the entranceway where we went about putting on our shoes and coats.

“D’you reckon we should be married?” I considered, glancing over over at Bellatrix as she laced up her boots.

“Ooh, I like that!” she exclaimed, straightening up and winding her scarf around her neck. “Could we be newlyweds? Lord knows my marriage had more than its share of problems, but I remember really enjoying being newly married.”

"Aww, sure Ms. Black,” I smiled, twining my fingers through hers. “Let’s go, wife. I’m taking you out.”


	9. Wine and All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You spent the night on my sofa. Can’t have been terribly good for your back, so why don’t you come sleep for a few more hours in a bed? We had a late night,” I explained, my words hushed; she’d just woken, and I figured she could feel little better than I did at the moment.  
“Oh, no! I’m sorry, darling, I meant to go home, I really did, but by the time I put you to bed, it was nearly four. I couldn’t find my keys, and it was too late to take a taxi-” my quiet laughter interrupted her. She looked at me with wide, apologetic eyes that questioned both my sanity and my humor.

Bellatrix’s POV

“You’re drunk, darling,” I observed dryly, though I couldn’t quite suppress a smile as I sat back down on the couch and watched Hermione re-enter the living room; I was suddenly quite glad that I had only had one glass of wine.

“‘M only a tit bipsy,” Hermione protested, gesturing loosely, red wine sloshing over the rim of the glass she held in her hand. I snorted in amusement.

“Whatever you say, dear,” I chuckled, stretching out a hand for Hermione, who took it before collapsing onto the couch beside me.

“Whoops,” she muttered, grinning crookedly up at me, her head resting on my shoulder, her eyes flickering down to the new, burgundy stain on her white blouse from where her wine had spilled when sitting down. I rolled my eyes and wrapped my arms protectively around her shoulders.

“As goofy and surprisingly adorable as you are drunk, I think I’ll take this,” I told her, picking the glass of wine out of her hand and setting it on the coffee table.

“It’s sticky,” Hermione complained, plucking at the wet spot on her shirt. “Needta shake a tower. No, w-wait, that’s not right...” she trailed off, frowning as I stifled my laughter. “Wanna come with me?” she waggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, you  _ are _ drunk,” I choked out, flushing.

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed honestly, relaxing against my body. “Never have the guts to say that sober.”

“'Mione...” I sighed, running my fingers calmingly through her soft brown hair. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”  _ And it’s unpleasant to hear you say it when you don’t mean it. _ Hermione sat up abruptly, her hands on my shoulders to steady herself as she clambered onto my lap, her knees on either side of my hips.

“Bellatrix,” she began earnestly, peering down at me with a peculiar look in her eyes. “I know you think you’re old and all, but you know what you are, sweetie? You’re an anomaly. You set all gtilted when- fuck, I can’t talk for shit,” she grumbled, and I smiled despite the fact that she was currently straddling my thighs and broaching a rather sensitive topic.

“Why don’t we get you to bed, hm? You need to sleep this off,” I said gently, finding her behavior both endearing and concerning.

“No, Bellatrix, listen to me,” she earnestly replied, shaking her head violently. “I can’t speak right, and there’s a damn good chance I’ll lose my nerve once I sober up, but I need you to know, okay? ‘Cause you should love you as much as I do. You’re kind, warm, and sexy. You have the prettiest smile, and, and you smell nice, and you have magical hair,” Hermione told me seriously, tugging on one of my curls and watching delightedly as it sprang back upon release, seemingly mesmerized.

“Hermione...” I sighed, lowering my gaze. “I’m not...”

“You are,” she assured me, tenderly tilting my chin up and shaping her hand to my jaw before she covered my lips with hers. I was drowning in sensation; Hermione’s thumb lightly skimming my cheek, her lithe body settled comfortably over me, her warm lips  _ and oh God, her wine-sweetened tongue _ ...My hands gripped her hips as if she were all that was anchoring me to Earth, and for a heart-pounding moment, I kissed her back. And then she was pulling away, and my mouth felt the loss. Her hand slipped from my face to curl at the base of my neck, and she smiled, seeming impossibly serene. She licked her lips absently, and I felt my hands flex on her waist.

“All right, darling,” I whispered. “All right. Now, come on, let’s go to bed, okay?”

“Okay, Bellatrix,” she smiled, draping her arms around my neck and resting her forehead on my shoulder.

“Brilliant,” I sighed, now pinned beneath a sleeping Hermione.

Hermione’s POV

I groaned, my head throbbing as I pulled the covers over my head in an attempt to block out the sunlight-filled bedroom.  _ Bed. I was in my bed. How’d I get here? _ I wondered groggily. I cast my mind back to the night before, pushing against the hazy, booze-induced memory barricade. Yes, there had been drinking, plenty of drinking...And a warmth, the most incredible warmth. Soft, too. Silky skin and ringlets of floral, clean smelling hair. And then the heat and the softness got all mixy together; the sensory weight of wine, the curve of pink lips long since memorized growing closer, the brush of a sultry, delicious mouth... _ Bellatrix. Jesus fuck, I kissed Bellatrix. _

My arms slipped uselessly as I tried to push myself upright in bed, only to end up face down on my pillow again. I let out a muffled squeak, and scrabbled to sit up. I eventually managed to get myself into a sitting position, glancing nervously at the clock while I ran a hand through my hair. To my surprise, I found it was only 8:40 a.m. Usually, after a late night of too much drinking, I awoke hung-over, well past noon.  _ Must have been Bellatrix’s relaxing qualities, _ I thought wryly, not in the least amused by my situation.  _ God knows what kind of damage you’ve done, _ I added bitterly.  _ What must Bellatrix think of you now. _

I nearly fell out of bed, and shambled out of my room and down the hallway. I whinged at the light that hit my sensitive eyes when I entered the living, blinking in confusion at the sight that met me. Bellatrix, asleep on my couch. Even her diminutive form was too long for my couch; her knees were bent, and her chin was tucked to her chest, and she still barely fit on the sofa. I winced sympathetically — that must have been a terribly uncomfortable night for her, especially with her bad back. My brow wrinkled in concern when I noticed that her only source of warmth was the thin, scratchy blanket that I kept hung over the back of my couch, which was now tangled around her waist. An aching smile tugged at my lips as I approached the sofa and knelt by Bellatrix.

“C’mon sweetie,” I murmured, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, all right?” She began to stir, shifting slightly and slowly opening her eyes.

“Hermione?” she mumbled, bewilderment filling her sleepy green eyes. “Wha’s going on?”

“You spent the night on my sofa. Can’t have been terribly good for your back, so why don’t you come sleep for a few more hours in a bed? We had a late night,” I explained, my words hushed; she’d just woken, and I figured she could feel little better than I did at the moment.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry, darling, I meant to go home, I really did, but by the time I put you to bed, it was nearly four. I couldn’t find my keys, and it was too late to take a taxi-” my quiet laughter interrupted her. She looked at me with wide, apologetic eyes that questioned both my sanity and my humor.

“Bellatrix, Sweetie, it’s okay,” I chuckled. “I don’t mind that you stayed over at all. I’m glad you didn’t drive, I only wish you hadn’t had to sleep on the— Hang on, put me to bed?” Bellatrix looked down quickly, her cheeks turning a lovely pink color that I would take the time to admire, were it not for the more pressing issue of Bellatrix putting me to bed.  _ And I don’t even get to remember it _ , I griped.

“So, you, you don’t remember what happened last night?” she queried, awkwardness nearly — but not quite — concealing the disappointment in her tone.  _ Ah. The Kiss. _ I could practically hear the capitalization in my mental voice.

“I remember, Bellatrix. Just not what came after my passing out on you. Er, sorry about that, by the way. I shouldn’t have...fallen asleep on you like that. You’re just so warm and cozyable,” I apologized, grinning ruefully up at her from behind the lock of hair that had fallen over my eyes. I brushed it out of the way before pressing a tentative, contrite kiss to Bellatrix’s forehead.

“You remember?” she checked, her voice riddled with curiosity and unspoken questions.

“Could hardly forget that, now, could I? You’re a very memorable person, you know,” I replied, the ghost of a smile playing around the corners of my mouth. I wouldn’t quite let myself hope, not yet.

“Did you mean it?” Bellatrix blurted, and by the surprised look on her face, I could tell that she hadn’t meant to wonder out loud. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that,” she muttered.

“Depends on which part you mean,” I began, speaking slowly. I knew I had to handle this situation carefully, so as to leave Bellatrix with no doubt about my sincerity and with an honest, open impression, but not frighten her off. I held up a hand to forestall her when I saw her open her mouth, and continued. “I meant every word I said about how wonderful you are, how I see you, and how much you mean to me. I do wish it had been more eloquently put, but I hope you get the gist of it. You’ve come to mean so much to me, become such a central part of my life. And sometimes I get the feeling that you see yourself as less, less than what you really are. You should never doubt how brilliant you are, or how cherished. I meant it last night, I and I mean it now.

“As for my kissing you...I apologize for that, I feel like I forced myself on you. We were both drinking, and-”

“I understand,” Bellatrix interjected, and this time I detected a definite trace of anguish in her tone.

“Clearly not, love, now let me finish,” I told her gently. “We were both drinking, and that is not how I would have chosen to kiss you for the first time. It shouldn’t have been in a fit of alcoholic, impulsive bravery, for one. It shouldn’t have been nearly four in the morning, and I shouldn’t have been wearing a wine-sodden shirt. It should have been perfect. I should have taken you out first; I should have walked you to your door; I should have been sober so the memory would be absolutely clear. So I’m sorry I was drunk, and it was late, and most of all I’m sorry that you ever doubted I meant it. But if you’re up for it, I’d like another chance to get it right.” When I finished speaking, Bellatrix’s gaze had returned to my face, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a film of tears glittering in her eyes.

“Hermione...” she whispered, her voice thick with pent up emotion and a hope that reflected my own.

“What do you say, Bellatrix? Will you give me a chance?” I asked softly. She nodded, her nose scrunching as she fought back a fresh onslaught of tears.

“For the record,” she sniffed, wiping away the salty moisture with a trembling hand, “for a first kiss, you did pretty damn well. Wine and all.”

Bellatrix and I sat on the couch side by side.

“So, if you feel half as hungover as I do this morning, you’re dying for coffee and a shower, am I right?”

“Oh, God yes,” Bellatrix agreed heartily, looking over at me with a hopeful expression. “And some paracetamol?” I chuckled, pressing my forehead against her shoulder for a moment.

“In America, we use aspirin, sweetie,” I informed her, patting her knee. “Which I’m sure you would know if you were more awake. Also, I have an abundant supply of aspirin, so don’t worry. Anyway, why don’t you go shower while I put on the coffee, and after you’re done I’ll take my turn,” I suggested.

“Are you sure, darling? It’s—”

“I’m sure, Ms. Black, it’s no trouble. I’ll set out a change of clothes for you, yeah? Hang on, let me make sure there are clean towels...” I took Bellatrix’s hand and lead her into my bedroom, and then further on into the adjoining bathroom. Finding everything in order, I laid out a clean pair of sweatpants and one of my overlarge paint shirts on my bed.

“Erm, darling, could you give me a hand please?” I looked over at Bellatrix, who was struggling with her shirt. Her top laced up the back, and she was having difficulty untying it herself.

“How on earth do you ever get this off by yourself?” I wondered aloud as I positioned myself behind her and began undoing the back of her shirt.

“Usually I can reach it myself, but my back is sore,” she explained apologetically, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me at the thought of my drunkenness and small couch causing her pain.

“My sofa can’t have done you any favors — I’m sorry,” I said quietly, brushing my fingertips over her shoulder blades.

“It’s not your fault, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for,” she assured me. “I could’ve not drank, or called a cab. Besides, you know I’ve had problems with my back before, this is nothing new.”

“Still...” I sighed. “I’d like to do something for you, to make it up.” I unlaced the last of the ties on her shirt, leaving it open and her skin exposed. “Have you had any success with massage therapy in the past?” I asked as I ran my hand down the middle of her back, my palm skimming over her soft skin and my thumb brushing over the ridges of her spine. I felt her shiver slightly at my touch, but given that she didn’t pull away from me, I assumed she was all right.

“I— Yes, once or twice. It was too expensive for me to continue regularly, but it was a very enjoyable experience,” Bellatrix answered honestly. “Why, are you offering?” she asked, the blouse slipping from her shoulders as she turned to face me. Her bright green eyes sparkled up at me, and she pulled the shirt off and tossed it on the bed, standing before me in capris and her bra.

Yes,” I replied, starting to grin at her. “I am most definitely offering.”

“I would like you to kiss me again,” she whispered, stepping closer to me.

“I would very much like that, as well,” I admitted softly, gently tucking a ringlet of hair behind her ear, my hand lingering on her neck. “May I?” I queried, wanting to be certain. She nodded, her expression gentle and open. My lips twitched into a half-smile as I leaned in, my mouth hovering over hers for a few seconds before I kissed her. Unlike the last time, my head was uninhibited by the sweet haze of alcohol; Bellatrix was real and warm against me, her skin soft and her lips softer. Last night’s kiss had been sloppy and hot, but this was slower, more thoughtful, and without guilt on either of our parts. When we broke apart, I pressed my lips to her forehead and stepped back slightly to catch my breath, because she wasn’t wearing a shirt and her bra-clad bosom was pressing against my chest and she smelled good and it was all overwhelming. When she looked up at me, puzzled and trying to conceal her initial hurt, I shaped my hand to her jaw and stroked my thumb over her cheek.

“We’re all right, Bellatrix,” I promised her “But I’m not made of stone, and I don’t want to rush this with you.”

“Oh,” she remarked, surprised. “You mean—”

“You’re incredibly beautiful and my self-control is only so strong,” I smiled sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she blushed, ducking her head self-consciously.

“The offer still stands, you know. May I give you a massage?” I asked, glancing up at her questioningly.

“Would you mind? It’d be much appreciated,” she nodded, sounding sincere.

“Why don’t you lie down on the bed, then,” I replied, gesturing toward my bed. I shifted the clothes I had chosen for her to the far side of the bed while she got comfortable, lying on her stomach with her arms spread at her side. I mentally calculated how much of her back I would be able to reach if I sat on the edge of the bed, and how poor my leverage would be.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” I told her as I knelt on either side of her hips. I slowly settled onto her lower back, but when she winced slightly in pain, I immediately straightened back up. “I’m so sorry,” I murmured. “Is this all right?” I asked, shifting lower down until I rested lightly on her bum.

“It’s fine,” she told me, her voice slightly rough. She cleared her throat, and the nape of her neck flushed with color.

“May I?” I asked softly, resting my hand on top of her bra clasp.

“Sure,” she agreed, and I unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the side, the straps slipping over her shoulders. I exhaled carefully as I slowly trailed my hands down her back, charting her vertebrae, muscles, and knots of tension. I gradually began to apply more pressure, my hands smoothing over her shoulders and gently kneading her lower back. Bellatrix moaned softly in the back of her throat, which caused my hands to stutter slightly over her skin. I paused to sweep her loose curls over her shoulder, exposing the back of her neck, which I massaged lightly.  _ God, I hope I get another chance for this, to see you so...trusting _ , I mused. T _ o memorize the contours of your musculature, and catalogue every kind of softness and warmth that means Bellatrix _ .

“You know, darling, you have a very interesting, very poetic mind,” Bellatrix said quietly, and my hands stilled on her shoulders.

“Please tell me you’re not psychic,” I begged teasingly.

“No,” Bellatrix laughed. “When you’re intensely focused, you talk aloud. I’ve noticed it before; I’ve been privy to your inner monologue on more than one occasion, my love,” she told me gently.

“Oh God, was I— Was I speaking out loud? Did you hear that?” I asked, mortified. “I’m so sorry!”

“There’s no need to apologize, 'Mione! You actually have a fascinating, and very flattering, mental track. Here you are, literally atop a woman who’s bare to the waist, and what are you thinking about? Her trust. The day I met you, I told you that you were remarkable, and I stand by that now.” We were both silent for several minutes after that, my fingers idly tracing pattern on her back, her breathing even and steady beneath me.

“You are exceptionally soft, you know,” I began, my voiced hushed in the quietude of the room. “Your curls, your lips, your skin. You mean the world to me, Bellatrix; it’s been a long road for us both to get here. To have you with me, willing to try this, open and affectionate...It’s a wonderful feeling. Of course I have to wonder if you won’t go home and regret all of it. And as for ‘memorizing the contours of you musculature,’ that’s basically the wordy way of saying that I want the chance to know your body — well. Most importantly, your trust is one the things I treasure most in this universe.”

“I won’t,” Bellatrix vowed. “Regret it, I mean. We’ve known each other too long and too well. You know the kind of drunk I am, you’ve heard me sing, you’ve seen all my scars, you’ve dealt with me before I’ve had my morning coffee, you know how I taste hungover at 9:00 a.m., you’ve sat with me on the phone at two in the morning because I was upset. After all of that, beyond reason, you still want me. I’ve hurt enough in my life — I think we both have — that I don’t want something casual. But if you’re willing to try, darling, I am, too.”

“I can’t imagine ever not wanting you,” I confessed, tilting my head back to keep my tears from spilling down my cheeks. “You’re Bellatrix,” I said as if that explained everything, my voice breaking on her name. I took a shaky breath, a smile breaking out across my face.

“Christ, I am so glad that you’re not psychic,” I laughed in sheer relief. She wants me. 

“Oh?” Bellatrix prompted, amused.

“This poetic mind has had some pretty impure thoughts about you,” I admitted sheepishly. “You’re very distracting!” I defended; I could sense Bellatrix’s doubt radiating off her in waves. “Oh man, I would’ve been out on my ass before we even left the hospital,” I laughed, thinking of all the times my thoughts had strayed when admiring Bellatrix.

“I find that oddly charming,” she said thoughtfully.

“Of course you do,” I smiled indulgently. “Trust you to find dirty thoughts charming. My heart was yours from your first ramblings and inappropriate bedside flirting, Ms. Black,” I informed her fondly. “You’re sort of all the things I love most about the world rolled up into one gorgeous, sexy, adorable woman with magic hair.” She shook as she laughed throatily.

“Is that all it takes these days? Horrid flirting and embarrassing babbling?” I snorted, understanding why she was laughing.

“Not everyone is as easy as I am,” I warned playfully. “Stick it out with me for awhile before you go trying out your wiles on any other unsuspecting hospital patients. Poor dears, they wouldn’t know what hit them.”


	10. Miss Unintentionally Sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know,” I began, smiling wryly, “in many ways, we’ve been in a relationship for months already. Neither of us have been seeing anyone else, we spend most of our time together, we’re ridiculously domestic...All that’s missing is the sex,” I concluded, smirking playfully at Bellatrix, who blushed and rolled her eyes.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?” I asked curiously as I set down a mug of tea in front of Bella, pressing a kiss into her thick, spiraling curls before sitting down beside her at my kitchen table.

“Erm,” Bellatrix started, glancing up at me self-consciously, “no?”

“Really?” I queried, a bit surprised. “Not even in university? Never kissed your best friend?”

“Never,” she admitted, cupping her hands around her mug and inhaling the bittersweet steam.

“Ugh, now I feel even worse for drunk-kissing you last night,” I groaned, running my hand through my hair guiltily.

“Seriously, Hermione, it’s all right,” she emphasized, laughing a bit at my disgruntled expression. “It was actually— God, it was quite intense. By the time my brain had caught up to what was happening, it was nearly over. There you were, settled in my lap like you belonged there, looking down at me with your warm brown eyes and absurdly long lashes. You were warm — I think it was from all the wine — and your hands were smooth against my skin. And your mouth was softer than I was expecting— not that was expecting...There was no space between us, and you were...gentle. Overall, the whole experience startled me by how arousing it was.” I felt a flush creep over my skin at Bellatrix’s words; hearing her describe it was very different to remembering it, especially considering how inebriated I had been.

“Do you have some idea of how long this has been a thing for you? I mean, if you’ve never so much as experimented with another woman before...” I trailed off, unsure what, exactly, I was asking.

“I think it started the day I met you in that hospital,” she answered, chuckling. “I don’t normally flirt with women like that, but with you, it was a knee-jerk reaction, I suppose. You kind of...sparkled, even under all those bandages and bruises. You were kind, and had a refreshing sense of humor about it all.” Her voice was quiet when she finished speaking, her tone colored with contemplative fondness. 

“And what of you, darling? How long have you been having impure thoughts about me?” Bellatrix asked, her eyes twinkling with humor as she alluded to my previous confession.

“In all honesty, though, I believe I’ve been more than a little in love with you since the day we met, and everything I’ve learned about you since has only deepened that,” I answered slowly, choosing my words with care. “I assumed that I had a snowball’s chance in hell with you, so I did what I could to set aside those feelings. Knowing you, being your friend, meant more to me than I can say — who was I to ask for more? I was terrified of scaring you off.”

“All this time, darling?” Bellatrix whispered, her eyes widening and her lips parting slightly in something adjacent to both alarm and wonder, but wasn’t quite either. “That must’ve hurt,” she said softly, her tone tinged with regret.

“Sometimes,” I agreed, my chest aching at the remembered pain. “But it was worth it, Bellatrix, okay? It’s always been worth it.” My voice was steely in its attempt to keep from breaking, so I brushed my fingertips along her cheek to soften my words. She leaned in to my touch, twisting slightly to kiss my palm.

“You’ve been terribly patient with me, my love,” she sighed, watching me.

“Worth it,” I reminded her stubbornly.

“I’m scared, and I have no idea how this works, but I’m not an idiot. If I’ve truly been lucky enough to find someone as exceptional as you who looks at me like that, woman or not, I’m not going to give that up without a fight.”

“Good,” I breathed. “Because this probably won’t be easy for you. Our personal relationship aside, it might take time for you to adjust to finding out that your sexuality isn’t as fixed as you thought it was, fifty years in. It was confusing enough coming out to myself as a teenager, I can only imagine what it must be like for you now. I have to say, I’m seriously impressed, Bellatrix. You’re doing considerably less panicking than I would’ve expected.”

“Trust me, I’ve lost my fair share of sleep over this,” Bellatrix huffed, returning to her tea before going on. “But I’ve noticed it’s only when I really stop and over think it. When I’m actually with you, it feels so normal, which is probably the weirdest part of all this.”

“You know,” I began, smiling wryly, “in many ways, we’ve been in a relationship for months already. Neither of us have been seeing anyone else, we spend most of our time together, we’re ridiculously domestic...All that’s missing is the sex,” I concluded, smirking playfully at Bellatrix, who blushed and rolled her eyes.

“I think you have something there,” she admitted thoughtfully. “It’s as if we got halfway into the relationship without even noticing. This way, when we do start dating, we won’t have to do the awkward ‘getting to know you’ bit.” I nodded absently in agreement.

“Okay, I really am curious about something,” I hedged after a brief lull in the conversation.

“Oh?” Bellatrix prompted, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Mmhmm. When did you first start noticing that you were attracted to me? Physically, I mean.” She frowned in concentration, taking the question seriously.

“I think...It was mostly little things at first, you know, platonic things that began to feel decidedly less ‘friendly.’ I found myself constantly wanting to be in contact with you; at first I thought it was just my neediness getting a bit out of hand, but it was really more of a hyper-aware, sexual, testing the waters sort of thing. Oh — oh God, this is embarrassing, and a bit shallow...You know when you took me out for my birthday?” She waited for me to nod before continuing. “Seeing you in that dress, my Lord but it was horribly distracting. I couldn’t stop staring at you. And the way you sit, you sort of lounge carelessly, always sprawled out, completely oblivious of how, how alluring it is! God, it’s infuriating!” Bellatrix exclaimed, looking at me in exasperation, while I sat there stunned.

“Sorry?” I asked, laughing in sheer surprise. “I didn’t know the way I sit is seductive, jeez. You’re really serious?” Bellatrix shrugged helplessly in affirmation.

“It was so confusing at first! I tried to hide from it for awhile, sort of ‘ignore it and hope it goes away’ kind of deal, but then I started asking myself why I wanted it to go away in the first place. You’ve always gotten under my skin, it just took me ages to come to terms with why. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be around someone who is constantly turning you on by the way she bloody sits?”

“Good to know,” I chuckled, my thoughts whirling as I saw our past interactions in an entirely new light. “And yes, Miss-Unintentionally-Sexy, I do have a fairly good idea what that’s like— Oh, don’t look so surprised. You must have some idea of what you do to me on a daily basis. You’re voice alone, never mind your magic hair and your cleavage and your strong hands and your mouth. Good God woman, are you even aware of the way you bite your lip, or what you do with your tongue when you’re thinking?” Bellatrix’s cheeks pooled with color, and she lifted her hand to press her palm against the flushed skin.

“This has certainly been an enlightening morning,” she muttered, and at that, I laughed aloud.

“That’s the understatement of the century,” I said wonderingly as I rose to collect our now empty mugs. Bellatrix stood, following me over to the sink, where I set them down before turning to face her. Her hair was still a bit damp from her shower, her eyes positively shone, and despite her embarrassment of a moment before, she was smiling with so much carefree sincerity that I couldn’t help but mirror her expression. I stepped nearer, resting one hand on her waist and cupping the nape of her neck with the other.

“No more hurting,” she promised me softly, her mind clearly still on my earlier admission.

“No more hiding,” I returned with equal gentleness. I drew her into another kiss, once again different from the one before. It was less timid, our pent up need bleeding through in the way her tongue brushed against mine, how I bit her lower lip, and in the way she clutched at me. I explored her mouth, my hand sliding up her back, desperate to be closer in any way I could. When breathing became an issue, we broke apart, our foreheads together and our eyes closed.

“I don’t understand,” Bellatrix began breathlessly, “how it’s possible to want someone this much.”

“The feeling is absolutely mutual, Sweetie,” I assured her, shifting so that I could embrace her more fully. She buried her face in my neck, her arms slipping around my shoulders. We stood like that in my small, sunlit kitchen, toe to toe and as close as was physically possible, for an immeasurable amount of time. 

I had never been content to simply hold someone like this before, but enveloped in Bellatrix’s familiar warmth with the steady beating of her heart against mine, I could believe that somehow, as impossible as it had once seemed, she and I might beat the odds. All odds, any odds, every one that had been stacked against us over the years, both individually and together. That I was alive to cling to her, and she was alive to cling right back, was a miracle in and of itself, one that made so many scars — metaphorical and literal — seem worth it. 

It was then, with a mouthful of hair and an armful of Bellatrix, that I resolved never to be without her, and never to let her be alone. One way or another, I would be there to see her go grey, and I was determined to cause as many laugh lines as I could in the time we had.


	11. Please Kiss Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, that is so,” she informed me seriously, a smile twitching at her lips nonetheless, and I was abruptly overcome with the need to kiss her. However, Bellatrix towered over me in her current position, and the closest I could come was brushing my lips over the base of her throat.  
“Please kiss me,” I murmured into her skin.

“You know,” Bellatrix began, laughing as she fumbled her way into my lap and raised herself up on her knees to look down at me, “I find your mouth completely incomprehensible.” 

“Is that so?” I asked, grinning lazily up at her. My hands moved instinctively to cup her ass, my fingers gently massaging; she arched closer to me, a soft sound escaping from her that was halfway between a moan and a contented sigh.

“Yes, that is so,” she informed me seriously, a smile twitching at her lips nonetheless, and I was abruptly overcome with the need to kiss her. However, Bellatrix towered over me in her current position, and the closest I could come was brushing my lips over the base of her throat.

“Please kiss me,” I murmured into her skin.

“Happily, my love,” she agreed, relaxing into me until she sat fully astride my legs and draped her arms around my neck. She nuzzled my cheek for a moment before covering my mouth with hers, her tongue tracing my lower lip and slipping inside to taste me. She hummed in approval, shifting against me, her hands moving restlessly over my shoulders and back as I gripped her ass to pull her flush against me. Without breaking the kiss, Bellatrix insinuated her knee between my legs, her thigh pressing firmly against my center, and an errant part of my mind marveled at the instincts she had developed since we’d first started dating.


	12. Reverence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I like you, you know. All your different you’s, sometimes especially your less than nice and social you’s. Seeing you spill your tea and lose your temper brings you a bit closer to Earth and the rest of us mortal beings,” I added, biting my lip to keep from grinning.

“I don’t actually touch people, you know. Not before this, before you. Even now, with other people, I just...don’t. Friends and family, they tease me sometimes about not hugging properly, and all I can think is, you should see me with Bellatrix. Because it’s fundamentally different with you, and I’m not even sure why. But if you’re nearby, I reach out for you, for any kind of physical contact, without even thinking.”

“I won’t pretend to understand why I’m that person for you, darling, but I’m so glad that I am,” Bellatrix began softly, reaching out slowly to brush her fingers over my jawline with studious focus and reverence. “I’ve always been a fairly tactile person; I interact physically nearly as much as I do verbally. It helps with the image of being...perhaps more together than I, in truth, am, I suppose. For me, it makes it easier to be around people. And you...I feel so utterly comfortable and safe with you that I don’t need that extra layer of protection. I can function perfectly well without it around you, which is exceptionally rare, and something I value more than I can express.”

“That’s nice to know,” I murmured, slipping one leg over hers and pushing myself up on one arm. “I like you, you know. All your different you’s, sometimes especially your less than nice and social you’s. Seeing you spill your tea and lose your temper brings you a bit closer to Earth and the rest of us mortal beings,” I added, biting my lip to keep from grinning.

“Happy you see it that way,” Bellatrix laughed, reaching up to catch a lock of my thick hair between her fingers and fondly tucking it behind my ear, before running her hand over my shoulder and across the top of my back. The casual intimacy of the moment caught me unawares, and I stilled, poised half-atop Bellatrix, a breath of heat curling down my spine and settling in my abdomen. I lost track of the words we had been exchanging, and gazed down at the dip and curve of the nose below me, the charcoal sparkle of those eyes, the midnight corkscrews that were splayed over the ivory pillow, and the person who was looking out at me from this face. I considered saying something, but decided to kiss her instead; it was my firm belief that even a lifetime with Bellatrix couldn’t have enough kisses, and I had a lot of time to make up for.


	13. My Best Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You look gorgeous tonight, love,” she smiled when the kiss ended.  
“Thanks,” I grinned, tucking my hair behind my ear and extending my arm for her. “Shall we, then?”  
“We shall,” Bellatrix nodded, linking her elbow with mine, her eyes sparkling playfully. “Take me dancing, lover.”

“I’m not sure about this dress,” Bellatrix mused, turning in front of the mirror, frowning slightly as she smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of the cloth.

“You look fantastic,” I told her sincerely, my voice thick with desire. I stood behind her, and ran my hand down the middle of her back, my palm skimming over her ass before sliding around to rest on her hip.

“You always say that,” she huffed, rolling her eyes affectionately.

“I always mean it,” I reminded her, stepping closer to wrap my arms around her waist.

“Well, you’re a bit biased, darling,” she pointed out, meeting my gaze in the reflection.

“True,” I conceded, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “But that hardly means I’m not also right. Besides, you’re not exactly impartial, yourself.”

“All right, all right, you win,” Bellatrix laughed, leaning back into me. “So you really think the dress looks nice?”

“The dress is lovely, sweetie,” I assured her, “though I’m much fonder of the woman wearing it. I particularly like this part,” I continued. My fingers ghosted over her warm skin, just beneath the cowl neckline, which showed off a rather generous amount of cleavage. Bellatrix mock scowled at me, but her mouth twitched into a smile.

“Why, thank you,” she husked, her voice saturated with effusiveness. She turned in my arms and shaped one hand to my cheek, studying my face with a peculiar look in her eye. Then she was kissing me, and my world consisted only of a familiar, warm mouth, gentle hands, and the silken fabric of her dress.

“You look gorgeous tonight, love,” she smiled when the kiss ended.

“Thanks,” I grinned, tucking my hair behind my ear and extending my arm for her. “Shall we, then?”

“We shall,” Bellatrix nodded, linking her elbow with mine, her eyes sparkling playfully. “Take me dancing, lover.”

As we were dancing, I felt Bellatrix’s hand drift lower to brush over the base of my spine and down across my ass, causing me to shiver slightly.

“Why, Ms. Black, are you trying to cop a feel?” I teased, my eyes warm with affection as I gazed down at her.

“Do you mind?” Her words were equally playful, but her eyes held the genuine question, and I knew that if I had wanted her to stop, she would’ve without hesitation, awkwardness, or acrimony. I did not, of course, want that at all, and answered her by pulling her closer, suppressing a smile when the weight of her breasts pressed against my sternum.

“No,” I assured her, grinning as I leaned in to kiss her gently.

  
  


Bellatrix danced much like she lived; with total abandon and an utter lack of concern for how others viewed her. Which was probably a good thing, as we were garnering more than a few stares from some of the other patrons. In deference to Bellatrix’s penchant for oldies music, I had taken us to a dinner and dance hall that played music primarily from the 1950s. Most of the couples here were on the far side of sixty, mixed in with a handful of twenty-year-olds who found the idea novel. Bellatrix and I fit into neither category, and so we enjoyed our evening wrapped up in each other.

An easy smile spread across my face, and I wound my arm around Bellatrix’s shoulders as she leaned into me, laughing against my neck.

“Oh, darling,” she giggled breathlessly, her hand finding purchase on my waist. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked, surprised.

“For all of this,” she replied, looking up at me with trusting eyes. “I’ve usually felt this pressure when I go out with people, like they’re expecting something from me. With you, I feel like I can just relax and have fun, and not have to worry about how you see me. I’ve had the most wonderful time tonight, Hermione.”

“I love seeing you like this,” I confessed. “You’ve honestly been so...open, about this whole thing, it’s incredible. Getting to spend time with you like this has been brilliant.”

“This is the brightest happiness I’ve felt in a long time,” Bellatrix confessed softly. “You’re...good for me, darling.

“You’re my favorite person,” I told her seriously, and while the words may not have been excessively elegant, they were the most fundamental truth. I loved her a great deal, but then, she knew that by now. Beyond the loving, though, there was the simple fact that whatever mood I was in, I was better when I was with her. For the first time, the prospect of sharing my life with someone was a thought that made me smile, rather than paralyze with me fear, and it was in that moment, looking at Bellatrix, her soft curls down around her neck and her eyes shining in the low light, that I realized I truly craved that with her. Loving her had never seemed like something I could ever stop doing, but an end had seemed inevitable, a loss I would have to weather. But here, as she smiled at me, I could see the rest of our days stretching out from this point. I could imagine getting to watch her grow old, could picture us sharing a bed and a kitchen and a home.

“You’re my best thing,” Bellatrix replied, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth, as if to impress upon me the sincerity and heft behind her words.

“And you’re happy,” I restated, my tone questioning, seeking reassurance. “I make you happy?”

“You do, my love,” she promised me, her lips trailing kisses along my jaw.

“Then I am an extraordinarily lucky woman,” I murmured, turning my head to engage her in a deeper kiss.

“Dance with me,” she hummed a minute later, pulling back slightly to glance up at me hopefully.

“Gladly,” I smiled, letting her tug me out of our secluded corner and onto the dance floor. It was rather late by now; we’d been here for several hours already, having eaten and danced some earlier. Now, all I wanted was to let myself get lost in Bellatrix. I drew her closer, relaxing automatically as her body aligned with mine. My arms went around her waist as hers draped loosely around my neck, and we began to sway slowly in time with the sweet, crooning music. We leaned in to each other, our torsos pressed flush together from waist to chest. My fingers curled against Bellatrix’s lower back at the feel of her warm curves fitted perfectly with mine; when she chuckled quietly, I knew she understood, and was beset with a similar desire.

“This dance, and then another,” she murmured, her voice low and bordering on sultry. “And then...”

“And then?” I prompted, fighting a grin, my fingertips lightly skimming over Bellatrix’s shoulder, sweeping her long hair back.

“And then,” she continued, and I could hear the smile in her voice, “you are going to drive me back to your house, I am finally going to get you out of that very flattering dress, and we shall go to bed.”

“Why, Miss Ms. Black, if I didn’t know better, I’d say your intentions were less than respectable,” I smirked, placing a featherlight kiss on her neck.

“Respectable?” she mused, pretending to consider the idea. “Not quite the right word choice...Pleasurable, certainly, and fun. But I can assure you, Miss Granger, that my, ah, longer term intentions are quite honorable.”

“Are they now?” I asked softly, recognizing the thrill that spread through me at her words, no matter how often we alluded to a lasting relationship.

“Most definitely,” she concluded with a tone of finality, holding me just a little tighter. I tucked my face into her neck, hiding my smile against her shoulder as we continued to move slowly in time with the music.


	14. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She leaned into me, humming contentedly as she gripped my hips, her hands just beneath the hem of my shirt.  
“How about a good old fashioned kiss-and-grope night?” she suggested playfully, glancing up at me, her thumb rubbing small circles over the skin just above my waistband. A shudder trembled through me, in equal parts love, lust, and wonder.

“'Mione, the entirety of my experience with women is limited to what I’ve done with you,” Bellatrix whispered, her hands tense on my shoulders.

“Hey, I know that. We won’t ever do anything you’re not comfortable with; there’s no reason we should have sex tonight, or even any time in the immediate future. Just show me how you liked to be touched. What feels good, sweetie?” I heard her breath catch in her throat, her dark eyes glinting as she gazed at me with curious lust. With shaking hands, she took my own hands and moved them uncertainly to gently rest on her breasts.

“Is- Is this all right?” she asked, sounding as if she were sincerely doubtful. “For you, I mean,” she clarified, blushing deeply.  _ Ah _ .

“Oh, sweetie,” I murmured, a smile playing around the corners of my mouth as I leaned in toward her. “It is very all right. Honestly — you have no idea.” I cupped her bosom more firmly, then traced my right thumb around her nipple as my left hand snaked around her side to run down her back. I placed a comparatively chaste kiss on the side of Bellatrix’s mouth, my offer for her to take the lead. Understanding, she smiled against my cheek before capturing my lips in a kiss that was far from innocent. She leaned into me, humming contentedly as she gripped my hips, her hands just beneath the hem of my shirt.

“How about a good old fashioned kiss-and-grope night?” she suggested playfully, glancing up at me, her thumb rubbing small circles over the skin just above my waistband. A shudder trembled through me, in equal parts love, lust, and wonder.

“I can do that,” I grinned, lightly palming her breast, my other hand slipping down to rest on the curve of her ass.

“Oh, you have about all evening to stop that,” Bellatrix exhaled, her arms going around my neck as she leaned in to kiss me again.

“Noted,” I replied, smiling against her lips and thinking that I could probably kiss this woman for years. In a moment of startling, hopeful clarity in which I remembered what Bellatrix had so far entrusted me with, I realized that if I were exceedingly lucky, I just might manage that. “Bellatrix?” I breathed, moving my mouth to the soft skin of her cheek so I could speak.

“Mmm?” she sighed happily, her fingers carding lightly through my hair.

“I love you,” I murmured, a feeling of deep contentment settling within me, and focused on the sensation of her chest rising and falling against mine.


	15. Curiosity and Arousal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are a danger to my health, you know that?” I mumbled, just loudly enough for Bellatrix to hear. She beamed, stretching out one leg languidly, her bare foot sliding slowly up the inside of my jean-encased leg.  
“I do hope so,” she smiled, and I suppressed a shudder.  
“You’ll be the death of me, Ms. Black, I swear,” I muttered fondly.

“So,” I began innocently, “have you done any research?” Bellatrix looked up at me from the other end of the couch, our legs tangled together in the middle and a book in each of our laps.

“Research?” she asked, puzzled, absently adjusting her reading glasses.

“Research,” I confirmed. “You know, like when I first realized I was into women, I read a bunch of lesbian smut. It’s a thing, a coming out kind of thing.” A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I watched Bellatrix’s expression unfurl. She seemed unsure whether or not to take me seriously; her initial reaction was amusement with a side of “What the hell?” though it looked like curiosity and arousal were beginning to win out.

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she waited for my answer.

“Well, I was fourteen or fifteen, so a part of it what simply figuring out the ‘how-to’s,’ but for me, it was mostly about understanding what I was getting into. I’ve always hated being unprepared for new situations. Also, in the beginning, there’s this niggling doubt, you know, ‘Am I really a lesbian?’ And that helped resolve it, made it clearer where my interests lay.”

“I haven’t done, to answer you question,” Bellatrix said thoughtfully. “I don’t even know if I identify as a lesbian. I’ve only ever been with men before, as we’ve established, and I’m not actively attracted to other women. I am attracted to you, and you’re a woman —  _ clearly _ — but I’ve never felt the need to do research. I may have a complete lack of experience with other women, but I’m not naïve; I know the basic mechanics of it. The rest is...personal. It’s about you and me, and I’ve yet to find a book for that.” She regarded me with a peculiar look in her eyes as she spoke, one that I couldn’t quite work out.

“You know where to find me if you want to do some research of your own,” I offered, winking, causing Bellatrix’s smile to widen.

“Good to know, darling. I may just take you up on that,” she chuckled, eyeing me with blatant appraisal and purpose. Heat crawled over my skin at her direct gaze and the sincerity in her words, and I was suddenly acutely aware of where our legs lay against each other.

“You are a danger to my health, you know that?” I mumbled, just loudly enough for Bellatrix to hear. She beamed, stretching out one leg languidly, her bare foot sliding slowly up the inside of my jean-encased leg.

“I do hope so,” she smiled, and I suppressed a shudder.

“You’ll be the death of me, Ms. Black, I swear,” I muttered fondly, rolling my eyes and tugging both her feet into my lap before they could cause further trouble. She grinned, her nose scrunching in that horribly endearing way, and I was left with no choice but to bend down and kiss her ankle. The ridiculous woman even had pretty feet, petite and clean, with royal blue painted toenails. I sighed contentedly, one hand settling on her calf as we went back to reading in quietude.


	16. The 'Fuck-it-I-love-her" Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, darling, this was a lovely idea,” Bellatrix sighed happily, pulling her hand from mine in order to take off her sweater.  
“I’m glad I could bribe you into joining me for this.”  
“And if I had declined?”  
“I would have stayed and had my coffee in your kitchen,” I answered easily and without a second thought. “If you would’ve had me, that is.”  
“I could get used to this,” Bellatrix mused. “Coffee on Saturdays, walks like this, especially now that the weather is warmer.”

I showed up at Bellatrix’s front door around 10:0 a.m. on Saturday with two coffee from Peet’s — one for her, one for me. After hesitating a moment, I knocked on her door.

“One moment!” I heard her call from inside, and I bit back a smile. Several seconds later, she pulled the door open, wearing familiar grey sweatpants and a tank-top, a white silk robe worn over but left untied. She appeared slightly frazzled.

“You all right there, Ms. Black?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. She blushed, looking down at her state of dress, then back up at me.

“What are you doing here so early in the morning, 'Mione?” Bellatrix inquired, looking at me suspiciously.

“It’s ten,” I pointed out, chuckling.

“Hmph.”

“I come bearing coffee,” I offered hopefully, lifting up the two white paper cups. She eyed me for another moment, then smiled.

“Come on in, then,” she invited, stepping aside to allow me entrance.

“Ah, now I know how to bribe you,” I noted, leaning in to kiss her cheek as I walked past her into her hall.

“Bribe me?” she asked, following me into the kitchen.

“Mm. I was hoping to entice you into taking a walk with me,” I explained as I sat at her kitchen table. Not yet sitting, Bellatrix crossed her arms over her chest and peered down at me.

“Can’t you walk on your own?” she laughed.

“Yes, but it’s ever so much more fun when it’s with you, Ms. Black,” I pouted.

“Do I still get my coffee if I don’t walk with you?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, sweetie,” I sighed. She was quiet, before her face broke into an enchanting smile.

“Fine, I’ll take a walk with you. Let me just get dressed first,” she decided, and I grinned.

“Just throw on a sweatshirt or something. It’s only me, Bellatrix,” I suggested.

“I know it’s you, darling. That’s the point,” she answered cryptically, dropping a kiss on the top of my head before heading to her bedroom to change. Though I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that last comment, I set it aside and sipped my coffee while I waited.

“All right, darling!” Bellatrix greeted, bouncing happily into the kitchen wearing well-worn black jeans and an unbuttoned blue sweater over a white blouse. Her feet were covered by white sneakers, and her hair was pulled up into a loose bun with a silver hair tie. I handed over her coffee as she neared me, then proceeded to tug the tie out from her hair, her glorious curls falling messily back into place.

“Hey!” she protested, surprised.

“Much better,” I smiled, pocketing her hair tie to keep her from stealing it back. “It’s a crime to restrain hair like yours, Bellatrix,” I remarked, starting back to her front door.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered fondly. “Mm, this is good,” she hummed, taking a sip of her coffee. “How’d you know I like hazelnut lattes?”

“I pay attention,” I answered, tapping my temple knowingly, making her laugh.

“Come on then, you. You said something about a walk?” Bellatrix prompted, taking my hand and pulled me out the door.

“My God woman, has anyone ever told you that you have tiny hands?” I remarked, stopping suddenly. I set my coffee down on her step and held her free hand in both of mine.

“Hermione,” Bellatrix objected, sounding embarrassed.

“No, but really! They’re so perfect and sweet!” I exclaimed, turning her hand over and stroking her palm lightly with my fingertips. “I’ve never really thought of hands as being pretty before, but you, Bellatrix, having very pretty hands.” And with that, I let the subject drop and picked up my coffee, but kept her hand in one of mine as we began to walk down her street.

“Oh, darling, this was a lovely idea,” Bellatrix sighed happily, pulling her hand from mine in order to take off her sweater.

“I’m glad I could bribe you into joining me for this.”

“And if I had declined?”

“I would have stayed and had my coffee in your kitchen,” I answered easily and without a second thought. “If you would’ve had me, that is.”

“I could get used to this,” Bellatrix mused. “Coffee on Saturdays, walks like this, especially now that the weather is warmer.”

“In that case, I hope to get you very used it. But it is warming up, so what do you say we take a break, eh?” I relieved Bellatrix of her sweater and led her over to the shade beneath a nearby tree. I sat immediately, and tugged her down beside me. Bellatrix shrieked out a laugh as she stumbled forward. I grasped her waist to keep her from hitting the ground hard enough to hurt, slowing her fall until she lay sprawled half on the grass, half on me. Her curls tumbled around her shoulders, and her familiar face was alight with laughter and surprise.

“Sorry, darling,” she smiled.

“Not to worry, it was my fault,” I grinned, completely unrepentant.

“Oh, I must be crushing you!” she cried abruptly, her eyes widening and flickering down at her our bodies, which were pressed flush together from the waist up. She made to get up off me, but her foot slipped against the grass and she fell back down, landing rather harder on me than she had before.

“Oomph,” I exhaled sharply, and as I carefully breathed back in, I felt my rib cage strain upward against Bellatrix’s oddly comforting weight.

“I’m so sorry!” she squeaked, covering her mouth with her hand in apologetic horror.

“Don’t you dare move,” I warned, sensing that she was about to try to get up again. Bellatrix arched an eyebrow questioningly, and I became acutely aware of her warm body pressed against mine. “You’re likely to kill me if you try that again,” I told her, pleased with the plausible excuse, making her huff adorably.

“Oh, honestly,” she rolled her eyes, her lips twitching against a smile.

“Let’s try this a different way,” I suggested, and without waiting for a response, I deftly rolled us over so that Bellatrix was flat on her back beneath me. As our bodies were still in extremely close contact with each other, I felt her tense beneath me and heard her catch up breath. Worried I had managed to hurt her after all, I glanced down into her eyes, mine filled with concern, but pain was the last thing I found in her expression. She was biting her lower lip, her cheeks were flushed, and her usually fair eyes had darkened. Though I had seen such signs of lust directed at me from women in the past, it had never been so affecting as Bellatrix, and that made all the difference in the world because I had never become so aroused from merely a look. A shiver ran through me.

“Bellatrix,” I breathed, smiling and gently moving a corkscrew of blonde hair back from her eyes with a shaking hand. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Bellatrix let out a shuddering breath, and gave me the slightest nod. And with that, I lowered my head, brushing my lips against Bellatrix’s ever so lightly before capturing them in a kiss that I poured all of my stored-up love and care into. Her lips were soft and warm, and began to move slowly against mine. After about half a minute, I pulled back, to gauge Bellatrix’s reaction, make sure she was okay with what had just happened.

“Be-” I began, but my question was cut off when she brought her hand around to cup the nape of my neck and kissed me again. She ran her tongue tentatively across my lower lip, dragging a shaky, involuntary moan from the back of my throat. This time, it was Bellatrix who broke the kiss, over a minute later, but her hand remained curled around the back of my neck as if to assure me she didn’t regret it.

“That was nice,” she murmured, her pink, freshly kissed lips curving into a smile.

“Yeah?” I asked, breathless and smiling back.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Darling?”

“Mm?”

“Could you maybe get off me now? You’re making it a bit difficult for me to breathe.” I looked at Bellatrix, not having expected that, and my face split into a grin.

“You sure it’s my weight and not my wild kissing skills?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows exaggeratedly. Bellatrix giggled. Honest to God giggled, adorable nose-scrunching and all.

“Perhaps a bit of both,” she conceded, winking.

“Cheeky woman,” I murmured, kissing the slight bump on her nose before moving off her. Bellatrix pushed herself up into a sitting position beside me, absently smoothing out her blouse. And like this — hair rumpled with bits of grass sticking out of its curly depths, faint smile in place, cheeks flushed and lips glistening from kissing me — I found her absolutely perfect.

“Oh, hush, you,” she returned, and I watched, more than a little entranced as she laughed. In a moment of honey-colored curls, grass perfume and laugh-lines, I fell in love. It was is if I had been hovering on the edge of a precipice, caught in the half-second before the free-fall with most of my body over the ledge, and had just been shoved over the edge by the fuck-it-I-love-her feeling.

“I--” I began, but cut myself off, having no idea what I planned on saying. “Thank you.”

“For what, darling?” she asked distractedly, settling in beside me.

“For sticking with me,” I answered softly, and Bellatrix’s fern-green eyes snapped up to meet my steady gaze. Understanding was etched into her expression; I could practically read the memory of the first time those words had been uttered between us in the set of her mouth. She looked like she was about to speak, but struggled for words. Instead, she leaned in and gently pressed her lips against mine.

“Ah, fuck, I love you,” she mumbled against the corner of my mouth.

“Read my mind,” I replied, the corner of my eyes crinkling as I smiled.


	17. Yarkaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her chest was sprinkled with constellations of ever so faint freckles, her skin soft and well loved by the sun. A carmine bra supported her full breasts, cleavage that had distracted me for over two years now. This was my Bellatrix, the woman I had come to know intimately, and with no little amount of hardship. It had not been an easy, painless road to get here, but she trusted me and beyond logic, wanted me. A semi-rational part of me feared that I would never again be granted such an opportunity as this, and I was determined to savor each excruciatingly real moment.  
“You,” I began seriously, my voice raspy with need and emotion, “are absolutely, fantastically, in a class of you own, Ms. Black.”

“Are you absolutely certain you’re ready for this, Bellatrix?” I asked softly. “I need to know.”

“I’m ready,” she assured me. “I am, oh God,  _ beyond _ ready. I want this, Liebe. I want you,” she murmured, her hands moving to my waist. Her fingers slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, lightly stroking the skin just above my jeans.

“Talk to me,” I breathed, breaking the kiss, my lips moving against her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want,” she started, swallowing convulsively, “for you to take your shirt off.” I smiled against her skin, pressing a firm kiss to her mouth before obliging. I easily pulled my shirt off over my head, tossing it somewhere to the side of me.

“Oh my,” Bellatrix whispered, her eyes raking over my bare abdomen, exposed collar bone, and bra-clad breasts. “Hermione...” she trailed off, her voice low and rough with arousal. The combination of her throaty voice and her interested gaze was enough for me to chase a shiver down my spine, my shoulder twitching as I tried to keep from stepping closer and kissing her again.

“You’ve seen me without a shirt on before,” I reminded her, feeling rather self-conscious beneath her close scrutiny.

“Yes, but I’ve never been able to properly look at you like this, knowing I’m allowed to touch you,” she sighed. “You’re beautiful, you know that, 'Mione?” she told me, so earnestly that I couldn’t help but smile. I spread my arms, and twirled around.

“All yours,” I said, grinning. Bellatrix’s lips broadened into a bright smile at those two simple words.

“May I?” she asked, lifting her hands slightly. I nodded, not trusting my voice. She immediately stepped toward me, her hands beginning at my hips before sliding up my bare back. She placed feather-light kisses on my shoulders, her soft lips brushing sweetly against my sensitive skin. Her tongue darted out as she tasted the skin at the base of my throat, and my knees nearly buckled at the light first touch. It was more than the sensation of having Bellatrix’s hot, wet mouth moving over my throat— no, what almost sent me to the ground was the near-innocence of her curiosity; I could feel her explorative nature in the way she kissed my neck, let the tip of her tongue ghost over my collar bone, paused, then moved her tongue more purposefully over my skin. She was sampling me.

“Fuck, Bellatrix,” I hissed, my fingers winding through her curls and pulling sharply.

“You like that?” she murmured, shifting back just enough to move her lips to my ear. Her voice was a mesmerizing combination of genuinely inquisitive, and seductively smug.

“Goddammit sweetie,” I panted. “Please let me take your fucking shirt off.” I wondered absently whether or not it was a good thing that I was pleading this early on.

“Oh you have a dirty mouth when you’re turned on, don’t you?” Bellatrix exclaimed, sounding rather delighted. She cocked her head to the side. “Hm. For some reason, I find that deeply arousing. That’s new.”

“Bellatrix, Bellatrix...” I warned, my voice low, my Russian accent thicker coming through far more than usual and surprisingly near to a growl. “I’ll say whatever you want, just don’t stop.”

“Oh, darling, I don’t plan to,” Bellatrix purred, nipping at the shell of my ear. She pushed me back, her hands gripping my shoulders. The back of my knees hit the back of the sofa behind me abruptly enough that I fell back, and I suddenly found myself sitting down with Bellatrix standing over me. My hands fell to her hips before sliding down over her legs, the warmth of her thighs seeping through her white skirt. My fingers ran down the sides of her legs, coming to rest at the tops of her calves, sliding beneath the trim of her skirt to touch her bare skin.

“Oh, Bellatrix...” I scratched my fingernails teasingly up her thighs as I mumbled, already on the verge of incoherency. I felt her legs begin to tremble, and so I gently guided her down until she knelt on either side of my legs. My hands found their way to the hem of her shirt, which I efficiently discarded, my heart aching at the sight before me.  _ Bellatrix _ .

“So gorgeous, my love,” I exhaled, one arm slipping around her protectively. Her chest was sprinkled with constellations of ever so faint freckles, her skin soft and well loved by the sun. A carmine bra supported her full breasts, cleavage that had distracted me for over two years now. This was  _ my _ Bellatrix, the woman I had come to know intimately, and with no little amount of hardship. It had not been an easy, painless road to get here, but she trusted me and beyond logic, wanted me. A semi-rational part of me feared that I would never again be granted such an opportunity as this, and I was determined to savor each excruciatingly real moment.

“You,” I began seriously, my voice raspy with need and emotion, “are absolutely, fantastically, in a class of you own, Ms. Black.” As I spoke, I skated my hands up her back to unhook her bra, which was lovely, to be sure, but very much in the way. Bellatrix’s breath hitched when the undergarment’s clasp was undone, and I, with deliberate slowness, slid the straps from her shoulders before letting it join her shirt on the floor.

“Darling—” she started, self-consciousness coloring her tone, but whatever apologetic caveat she was going to offer was lost in a sharp inhale when I trailed my fingers lightly down one breast. “Mmm, oh, H-Hermione...” she managed breathlessly, steadying herself with one hand by firmly gripping my shoulder. I smiled, looking away from her rapturous expression only so my mouth could descend on a dusky rose-colored nipple. Bellatrix’s hand clenched on my shoulder as I reverently laved her sensitive skin with my tongue, my free hand roaming restlessly over her back. I gently scraped my teeth over the aroused bud, eliciting a startled moan from the back of Bellatrix’s throat.  _ New favorite sound, _ I thought disjointedly.

“Please, please,” she intoned quietly, her hips pushing urgently forward, her abdomen softly nudging mine.

“Please what?” I asked, peering up at her, my breath gusting over her heated skin.

“I— Oh, I don’t know, just, more,” she implored, her eyes dark and wide and fixed on my own. I drank in her flushed cheeks, her lustful expression, and her halo of messy curls.

“Bedroom,” I decided quickly, “and less clothing.” As I finished speaking, I gripped her waist firmly and helped her to stand. She offered me a hand up, which I gratefully took, before leading her rather impatiently down the hall to the bedroom. Once we stood beside the bed, I turned to Bellatrix and smiled at the sight of her in only her skirt. I stepped closer to her, slipping my arms around her bare waist and covered her mouth with mine. She hummed and deepened the kiss, and I slowly slid her skirt over her hips and let it fall to the floor.

“Careful,” I murmured, helping her move away from her skirt without tripping. “I want to see you,” I told her, my voice hushed. I stepped back slightly, though I kept one hand on her hip.

“Hermione, I’m not— I don’t look like I did all those years ago darling,” she mumbled, blushing but holding my gaze, her gaze pinched and contrite.

“I know,” I said softly. “But Bellatrix— My  _ God _ , if you could see yourself the way I do...My chest physically aches with how beautiful you are. And I am so in love with you, Ms. Black. Please, let me show you.” She nodded, her expression warming and becoming lighter, more at ease. I pulled her into a hug, one that would’ve been entirely chaste were it not for her state of undress.

“I think,” she began, a smile in her voice, “that you are wearing entirely too much clothing.” I chuckled, trailing a hand down her back and over her ass, my palm skimming over the soft fabric of her knickers. With her chest pressed against mine, I could feel her quick intake of breath.

“I would have to agree,” I replied, releasing her. I moved to undo the button on my cargo pants, but Bellatrix stilled my hands.

“Allow me,” she smiled, and went about unbuttoning and unzipping my pants. My skin hummed and heat coiled in my abdomen as her hands moved around my waist and over my hips. She crouched as she pulled them down my legs, steadying me as I stepped out of them, and straightened back up once I was free. My bra unhooked in the front; Bellatrix glanced uncertainly up at me, resting one hand on my chest, over the clasp. I nodded encouragingly, and without further hesitation she unfastened my bra and pushed it back off my shoulders, a grin playing around the corners of her mouth. She drew nearer for another kiss, and her enchanting eyes flickered up to meet mine. Her hands moved sensually over my skin, one coming up my side and gently cupping my breast. I whimpered against her mouth at the light, barely-there contact, my nipple hardening at the feeling of her nimble fingers’ exploration. 

“Oh, sweetie,” I breathed, my hand ghosting over her back, her hair tickling my collar bone as she pressed kisses along my shoulder.

“You don’t know,” she started, her voice a deep, rough rasp, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.” A shudder rolled through me at her words, the heat that was coiled in my abdomen spreading out to burn in my fingertips.

“Not that this is about winning,” I prefaced teasingly, before collapsing into a suppressed fit of laughter. Bellatrix laughed quietly, the sound reverberating through her chest, and she smiled up at me.

“And they say dreams don’t come true these days,” she teased, her eyes glittering like obsidian in the low light.

“Come to bed with me, Bellatrix,” I beseeched simply, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Happily, darling,” she husked, kissing me tantalizingly before we turned and got into bed, both removing our vestiges of clothing and pushing back the covers.

  
  


“Good heavens,” Bellatrix exclaimed, lifting her arm to run her hand over her face. “Is it— is it always like that?”

“What was it like for you?” I asked intently, propping myself up and gazing down at Bellatrix, enjoying the flush in her cheeks.

“Intense,” she breathed, looking up at trustfully. “It was more...involved...Being able to feel you come apart, feeling you inside me and being in you at the same time, the unhurried feel and lack of a definite goal...I’ve never...You are something completely new, Hermione.”

“It’s not always quite like that, no,” I answered, my chest tight with her sincerity as I brushed a kiss along her jaw. “It depends on the people involved.”

“And there was rather a lot of sexual frustration to resolve, as well,” Bellatrix chuckled, her eyes sparkling. I grinned, and bent to kiss her lips, simply because I could. She hummed into the kiss, arching against me. I shifted, slipping my leg between hers as I moved over her, held up by one arm, my free hand gently brushing her hair back from her face.

“What was it like for you?” she asked, her words quiet in the stillness between us.

“Overwhelming,” I answered honestly. “Being with you...When you want something for as long as I’ve wanted being allowed to share this with you, you almost wonder if the experience could possibly live up to your hopes. But with you, Bellatrix, none of it matters; the expectations are null. Being with you has always been a privilege — adding sex to our relationship doesn’t change that.” When I finished speaking, Bellatrix resolutely blinked away the tears forming in her eyes and deftly rolled us over, reversing our position.

“I want to explore you,” she informed me with deliberate slowness, her voice husky and her eyes full of playful excitement. “You’re mine now, and I want to learn.”

“I’ve been yours for a long time, yarkaya,” I told her with a small smile, the edges of my words soft and honest.

“Iyarka?” she queried, trying out the unfamiliar word.

“It’s Russian — it means ‘bright one,’” I explained. After a moment’s consideration, Bellatrix beamed, relaxing into me, ducking her head to kiss me, and I knew that she had at least some idea of the significance behind the endearment.

Bellatrix’s POV

“You’re still here,” she breathed, looking at me in what could only be described as wild awe, and I felt my heart twinge at the surprise in her voice.

“Darling, I just slept with a gorgeous woman nearly twenty years my junior who is as madly in love with me as I am with her. Trust me, I’m not going anywhere,” I promised as I approached the bed and set the tea on the bedside table, my tone serious beneath my lighter words. Hermione sat up then, and ran hand through her disheveled hair, a grin beginning to flicker around the corners of her mouth. The ivory duvet came midway up to her chest, displaying the uppermost curves her breasts and her glacial shoulders. The vision of snowcapped mountains rising from a sea of clouds pervaded my head for a moment, and the sentimentality of the image made me blush more than the naked woman before me.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she admitted, smiling up at me.

“And you’re a vision,” I returned, sitting beside her and leaning in for a languid good-morning kiss.

“You’re all right with what happened last night?” she asked, her fingers carding gently through my unbrushed hair. My hands twitched as memories inundated my body, and my lips curled into a smile.

“I’m very all right with what happened, Liebe,” I assured her. “It was an honor,” I purred, and kissed her lightly.

“My, my, aren’t you the sweet talker this morning?” Hermione replied, pressing her lips to a pulse point on my throat before pulling back to look at me.

“You have put me in an exceedingly good mood,” I pointed out, watching as her dark eyes sparkled in the light when she tipped her head back and laughed.

“Oh, is that all it takes to get you to be nice to me? An orgasm?” she teased, looking mockingly scandalized.

“An orgasm?” I asked, my expression matching hers. “I’m nowhere near that easy, darling. The minimum is two, and you doubled that. Besides, I’m always nice to you,” I reminded her.

“Mmm, of course,” she agreed, nodding faux seriously as her hands slid up my thighs to grasp the hem of the t-shirt (hers) I was wearing and pull it off over my head. “So nice,” she mumbled, tugging me closer.

“Ooh, are you working toward a fifth?” I murmured, splaying my hand over her chest and pushing aside the blankets to expose more skin, which I trailed my lips and tongue and teeth over. “Not that I object, mind, but I think we should even the score.”

“I- Ah, I’ve decided I’m very okay with that,” Hermione sighed, her eyelids fluttering against the impulse to shut, and I was astonished all over again by how affected she was by me.


	18. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you’re my best thing,” she smiled, at last glancing up to meet my eyes. “The best thing I have, could ever have. And it’s not so much that I believe you would look at me the way he did, not anymore, as that...As that I do not like being reminded of the parts of myself that I find ugly, the dark times that were so hard to get away from. I don’t want that anywhere near you, near us.”

I exhaled softly into the dark room, my fingertips skimming Bellatrix’s hip as she avoided my gaze.

“Bellatrix, Bellatrix,” I sighed, peering up into her downturned face. “I know. I know, sweetie, about the scars, and how you got them.” I paused to slowly lift her blouse until her abdomen was exposed; this time, she did not shy away when I brushed my fingertips over her hysterectomy scars, my touch feather light. “I know that he made you feel less than, damaged, worthless, and I know that you are not. I know, and I am here. I happen to love you a great deal, Ms. Black, and there are no parts of you I would turn away from. You are the most beautiful creature in the world to me. You’re my favorite person, you know,” I smiled, gazing at her with devoted contemplation.

“And you’re my best thing,” she smiled, at last glancing up to meet my eyes. “The best thing I have, could ever have. And it’s not so much that I believe you would look at me the way he did, not anymore, as that...As that I do not like being reminded of the parts of myself that I find ugly, the dark times that were so hard to get away from. I don’t want that anywhere near you, near us.”

“I know the feeling,” I whispered, shifting forward and propping myself up. “When I allow myself to think too much about Daniella...The promises I made to myself, that I would be the one person who never let her down...What I let her do to me, emotionally, physically...It’s like a cancer, crawling beneath my skin and settling inside my bones, a kind of dirty that I cannot wash away. A weakness that disgusts me now, one that I never want to experience again. The mess inside my head that is only exacerbated by the presence of people. And then there is  _ you _ , my love, the brightest thing in my world, the one person I want to be with even on those days when I hate everyone. Do you remember, when we first became friends, and I was constantly falling asleep around you? I was hardly sleeping in those days; you were like a sedative to me, an instant comfort. Even then, you somehow meant safety.”

“I remember,” Bellatrix said softly, her fingers running soothingly through my hair. “I thought you were just recovering from the accident, that you were still healing, and on pain meds,” she recalled slowly.

“Those things are true,” I admitted, “but the medication never helped me sleep. A few of the drugs they put me on were supposed to be very powerful, and really knock you out. I guess the craziness of my mind overpowered the meds,” I said wryly.

“That  _ would _ happen to you,” Bellatrix agreed. “Oh, my reckless savior and her stubborn brain. I never minded, you know, the falling asleep. I remember you always looked so tired; it was a relief to see you resting. I’m gratified to know that I had something to do with it.”

“You’ve always had that effect on me,” I murmured. “When I was recovering, I remember listening to you talk to help me fall asleep. The strongest sleeping drugs they dared give a lanky thing like me never worked half so well as your voice.”

“Glad to know I’m such a soporific,” Bellatrix teased. “Just what every woman wants to hear, that she puts her partner to sleep when she talks.”

“Oh, take it as the compliment it is, scarf lady! You bring me peace!” I exclaimed, ducking my head and laughing into her shoulder.


	19. Brilliant Stubbornness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bloody hell, woman!” Bellatrix exclaimed, sounding exasperated. “How am I supposed to enjoy my coffee — let alone go running with you — when you’re practically begging to be properly shagged! I’m supposed to — what? Keep my hands off you?” The small part of my brain that was perpetually distracted made note of the fact that she slipped into heavier Britishisms when she was sexually frustrated.

I let myself in to Bellatrix’s house — the door was unlocked, after all — and wandered quietly into the kitchen, hoping she wasn’t still sleeping. Fortunately, I found her sitting at the kitchen table, huddled over her morning cup of coffee and wrapped up in her fuzzy blue bathrobe.

“So American, Ms. Black. Such a disappointment,” I tsked, walking up behind her and dropping a kiss onto the crown of her head.

“It’s too bloody early for you to be funny, darling,” she mumbled in response, still focusing on her coffee.

“...And the Brit in you makes a comeback. Anyway, the days are getting hot earlier now, and I want to go for a run,” I explained, pouting despite the fact that she couldn’t see me. 

“Well, what are you doing here, then?” Bellatrix asked, not unkindly. I sighed, moving around her chair to stand beside her.

“Because it’s not as much fun if you don’t come with me!” At last, Bellatrix looked up, her lips parting in surprise as she took in my appearance.

“What...What are you wearing?” she managed after a moment. I frowned, bemused by her reaction.

“Erm, running clothes?” I replied, peering cautiously down at my attire, hoping nothing was on inside-out.

“You call those clothes?” Bellatrix asked incredulously, staring pointedly at my sports bra and admittedly scant shorts.

“Bellatrix, it’s already seventy-five degrees out,” I informed her, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, well, this just isn’t fair,” she groused, taking a healthy gulp of her coffee.

“Pardon?” I queried, my confusion growing.

“Bloody hell, woman!” Bellatrix exclaimed, sounding exasperated. “How am I supposed to enjoy my coffee — let alone go running with you — when you’re practically begging to be properly shagged! I’m supposed to — what? Keep my hands off you?” The small part of my brain that was perpetually distracted made note of the fact that she slipped into heavier Britishisms when she was sexually frustrated.

“Not if you don’t like,” I returned, half seriously. The physical aspect of our relationship was still fairly new, and Bellatrix confessed to feelings of uncertainty about “being allowed” to touch me, as she had put it. She had returned her attention to her coffee in half-hearted annoyance, but at my words, she peered back up at me. She bit her lip nervously, looking both unsure and...curious?

“C’mon, Ms. Black, stand up, love,” I prompted gently. She sighed and stood, folding her arms across her chest and giving me a peculiar look. Unable to quite resist, I placed a light kiss on her cheek before tugging her arms out of their defensive position. I settled one of her hands on the bare skin of my waist, and the other on my equally exposed shoulder.

“Yours,” I promised, my voice soft. “You don’t have to keep your hands off me. I’m incredibly flattered, to be honest, that you don’t want to. I do, however, want you to be comfortable. With us. I know it’s all new, and that it takes time to get used to it, but I want you to know that you can trust me. It’s new to me, too. You’re new to me, and I want to spend ages discovering you, figuring you out. I hope you know that I’m not going anywhere; I’ll take whatever you have to give me.” My words hung in the air for several moments; I watched as Bellatrix heard something in my voice that gave her pause.

“Whatever I’ll give— Hermione, do you think that I’m less here, less invested, than you are? I may not be able to, to put it all out there like you do. Your love is vulnerable and unqualified and that is so brave, and so wonderful. I’m more—I’m quieter about it. I didn’t enter in to this lightly, because I knew that you could break me, I loved you so much already.” Her voice wobbled and cracked at the end, but her eyes never left mine, full of love and a brilliant stubbornness I had rarely been happier to see.

“No one,” I began shakily, swallowing, “has ever loved me as much as I loved them. Never. Not friends, not partners, no one.” Detesting the bitterness and self-pity in my tone, I dropped my gaze, focusing intently on the stitching on the bathrobe she was wearing.

“The last person to touch me like I mattered ended up casting me aside when it got tough. We’re both carrying damage with us, 'Mione, no one makes it this far without it. But I love you, and I need you to trust that.”

“Okay,” I whispered, “I’m trusting you not to fuck me up more than I already am.” I tightened my arms securely around her, my lips breathing the words against the curve of her neck. “My heart in your hands, Bellatrix Black.”

“And mine in yours, Hermione Granger,” Bellatrix returned, and I could hear the smile in her voice. And that’s all any of us really have to offer and can hope to find, isn’t it? A mutual trust; the assurance of love, a vow to cause as little hurt as possible, and the hope that we won’t walk away with more scarring than before.”


End file.
